Pictures Of You
by Lazarus76
Summary: <html><head></head>!AU. Steve Rogers has left military service and is now working as an English teacher. But he wonders what happened to his best friend and fellow soldier, Bucky Barnes - who was tempted into modelling by the wealthy Alexander Pierce. When their paths cross ten years later, Steve wonders if Bucky is now a prisoner of his celebrity.</html>
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: The Winter Soldier does not belong to me. I suppose I had the thought that being famous can be a bit like a prison. Then the story bunny started to hop...and I decided to start writing. **

"Your work is a gift to mankind!"

James Buchanan Barnes stared at himself in the mirror. After two hours sitting still, he could finally move. He began to turn. "Thanks, Alex."

"You know I wouldn't say it unless it were true." An older man, whose slightly weathered appearance was belied by his charisma, smiled at him. "Seriously, James. hen I spotted you in that shopping mall ten years ago, I knew that you would be perfect. And you have been. Grunge and the 90s waif look was over. We needed someone strong, heroic looking. A symbol for the new world."

James sighed. "If you say so."

"The shoot starts in twenty minutes," Alexander Pierce intoned, standing up. "The photographer will be here soon. And, also, I spoke to Rumlow. He's planning on working you hard for the next couple of weeks. No drinking, no partying. Understand? You turn up to the Clotier shoot looking 10lbs overweight and everything goes to pot."

James shook his head. "I understand, Alex. I understand completely."

"Good." Pierce smiled. "Remember, this Fashion house is one of the biggest in the world. Exposure everywhere. Its impressive how you've been at the top for ten years. Let's try and keep it for at least another five, ok?"

Barnes nodded, mutely. Suddenly, the photographer's assistant arrived. "James?"

Getting up, he walked into the studio.

* * *

><p>"It'll be fun. Trust me, man!"<p>

Steve Rogers smiled as he took a sip of coffee. It was the staff break, and he was wholeheartedly embracing it. Four classes back to back, plus the prospect of two meetings tagged onto the end of the afternoon...he shook his head. He sometimes wondered how he kept up with the demands of teaching English in a High School, but, as his friends Sam and Natasha kept reminding him, he had been in the army.

"Should be easy for you," Natasha had twinkled when he'd been at the school a couple of weeks.

"Says you," Steve had retorted. "What's better - the enemy standing there armed to the teeth, or twenty tired, hormonal teenagers facing you at 2pm on a Friday afternoon?" He looked at her. "I think I'll take the former."

"Not in six months you won't," she'd said, grinning. A Phys Ed teacher, Natasha was regarded as formidable throughout the school. He blinked as Sam, who taught Psychology, brought him back to the present.

"It'll be good."

Steve pulled a face. "A nightclub?!"

"Think about it." Sam leaned forward. "Its Tony Stark's new club. It'll have the works. The whole Faculty's going. Its nearly the end of the Semester, we all deserve a break."

Steve shrugged. "Hmmm..."

"Seriously, you need a break." Sam stretched. "I'm going, Nat's going to bring Clint...what's wrong with some downtime?"

Steve smiled. "OK, you got me. We'll go. And we'll have a good time."

"That's the spirit." Sam clapped him on the shoulder, then looked at him more closely. "You ok, man?"

"I'm fine." Steve looked a little pensive. "Its...no, its silly."

"Nothing we feel is ever silly," Sam said, his tone grave. Steve shot him a look. "Sorry. Amateur counsellor there."

"No, its fine. Its just..." Steve bit his lip. "Yesterday was an old friend of mine's birthday." He rubbed his forehead. "I realised the only way I could get hold of him was to tweet him, along with all his other groupies." He smiled wryly. "And ten years ago I would send him a card. The personal touch."

"He famous?" Sam asked, picking up his cooling cup of black coffee.

"Heard of James Buchanan Barnes?"

Sam's eyes widened. "The model? Part time actor?"

"That's him!"

"Wow!" Sam's eyes were the size of Jupiter. "You knew him?!"

"Since we were kids." Steve sipped his coffee. "In fact, we went to the same college, roomed together, and even enlisted together."

Sam blinked. "I-"

"And then he was spotted by some talent scout when we were at home after a tour of Afghanistan," Steve said sombrely, "and that was it. He and I-" he clicked his fingers - "living in different worlds."

Steve remembered the day clearly. They'd gone to a mall, both wanting to experience something glossily vacuous, after the scenes they'd witnessed in Afghanistan. As they'd left Starbucks, a man had approached them. An older man, whose greying blonde hair and expensive suit demanded attention.

"Can I talk to you?" he'd said to Barnes, completely ignoring Steve. "I'm scouting for a model agency. You're the type we need for a new male star. Alexander Pierce. Here's my card."

He and Barnes had argued about it.

"Modelling?!"

Barnes shrugged. "Its money, Steve. You know that. I really don't want to serve another two tours, and I'd like to finish college. Single mom, remember? I'd like to be home for her."

"But still..." Steve couldn't believe his best friend was seriously contemplating Pierce's offer. "I-"

He hadn't made any impact. A couple of days later, Barnes had packed up and left to go on a shoot. Discharged himself.

Sam sat quietly and listened. "Woah."

"Yep." Steve rubbed his face. "And after that - I was only in touch with him by looking at magazines and pictures." He shook his head.

"Don't you want to get in touch?"

"With Bucky? Yeah. But where do I start?"

* * *

><p>James - Bucky - sighed as he got back to his hotel. The anonymous blandness of the room was both soothing and irritating. He collapsed onto the bed. Six hours of standing like a statue. He rubbed his eyes.<p>

"At least I get to fly back to LA tomorrow," he muttered. Rome, he'd decided, wasn't quite to his taste. Suddenly, the phone rang. He pulled it out. "Hello?"

"James?" It was Alex. "Listen, I need yo to start packing. Tomorrow we have to get you to New York."

Bucky's eyebrows shot up. "New York? What?"

"We need to re-do the shoots from a couple of weeks ago. No excuses. Start packing. Oh, and don't eat anything on the flight. You're looking bloated."

Bucky opened his mouth to protest but the phone went dead. Moodily, he clicked it off. "No better than a prisoner," he muttered. Getting up, he started packing.

**Please review - it is appreciated!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: The Winter Soldier does not belong to me. **

"Would you like some wine, sir?"

Bucky blinked, and looked up at the attractive flight attendant. He shook his head. "Water, please."

She nodded. "Of course."

He repressed a sigh as he was handed a glass of sparkling water. From the aisle, Rumlow lowered his book, as though checking that Bucky was staying away from any of the calorie soaked drinks in the attendants' cart. He took a sip, and sighed inwardly. Only another Six hours in the air to go.

* * *

><p>"So, if you can complete reading the next chapter for homework, that will be all. Thank you!"<p>

Students began to get up, moving out for their next class. Steve checked his watch. He was free until the end of the day. Taking a deep breath, he decided to sit down, and start marking some papers.

He shuffled the stack, and pulled the first one out. Essays on the relationship between the two brothers in iOf Mice and Men/i. As he began to read, his mind wandered. He was thinking of that day. The last day he saw and spoke to Bucky.

"I can't believe you're just going to ship out like this," Steve had protested. The two were sharing a small apartment whilst on return from their last tour. Bucky's room - the larger of the two - looked as though a wardrobe had exploded. Clothes were draped on the bed, shoved into a large flight case. Bucky was concentrating on folding shirts, his face slightly impassive.

"Well, I am," he said, shortly. "Please. This is my passport to a better life."

"Really?" Steve asked, raising an eyebrow. "What's wrong with this one?"

Bucky shrugged. "Maybe I've had enough of getting up early, having to go on training runs, having to kill people."

"And what are you trading it in for?!" Steve shot back. "You'll be seen as an object, Buck, you know that-"

"No, I don't!" Bucky flared at him. "And you don't either." He focused on folding a shirt. "This is what I want to do. I leave for LA in two hours. That's it."

Furious, Steve walked out. His best friend seemed to have changed into somebody else. Someone, he thought ruefully, without any sense.

Two hours later, he heard Bucky's footsteps. He looked up from his seat in the small lounge. "So, you're going?"

"Yeah." Bucky didn't turn to look at him. His stubborness was legendary. "So, I'll..."

"See you," Steve finished shortly. "Stay in touch. Bye."

Bucky didn't look back. Simply opened the door and strode out.

Steve's pen hit the desk with a smack. He shook his head. He still felt that the lifestyle Bucky had chosen had been silly, superficial. But he regretted not making an effort that day. He had tried to get in touch, but the few emails he'd sent had been left unreplied to. All he'd seen of him was photographs on a bill board.

He shook his head. The photos he'd seen had made him look chiseled, stripped - rather different from the Bucky he'd known. He sighed. He was being consumed by thoughts of the past, and he needed to focus on the future. Specifically, the futures of the kids he taught. Picking up the pen, he began to read the essays again.

* * *

><p>Bucky cleared arrivals and baggage. Moodily, he grabbed his bag. Suddenly, Rumlow was on him. "Let me," he said, his voice syrupy. Bucky scowled. "I can manage."<p>

"Actually, I don't want you to." Rumlow glared at him. "I've spent hours getting that muscle tone on you in shape. You're not pulling it out."

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

Bucky walked to the airport exit. Walking into the road, he hailed a cab. Rumlow looked at him. "Where are you going?"

"Where I want to go," he snapped. Opening the door, he got in, leaving Rumlow quietly seething on the sidewalk.

* * *

><p>Steve enjoyed being out in the fresh air. He needed to pick up a few things, and as Sam had hinted on coming over that night for a few beers, took the opportunity to walk in the neighbourhood.<p>

"Focus on the future," he muttered to himself. As he walked towards his local small gorcers', he noticed a cab slowing in traffic. He blinked. The man sitting in the back looked familiar. Too familiar.

"Bucky?"

Steve looked. The man seemed closed off, haughty, arrogant. Shaking his head, Steve moved into the grocers'.

"**All reviews appreciated, thank you! I like to know who is following this!**


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer:** The Winter Soldier does not belong to me. **

"Mind if I sit here?"

Steve looked up. Natasha was standing in front of him, smiling. He nodded, pushing aside the papers he was giving up on grading. The Staff Lounge was quiet - a couple of Biology teachers had been loitering, but had now gone. Natasha sat opposite him, putting a couple of files down. She was clad in a black tracksuit, with a red t shirt. Picking up her cup of coffee, she cooled it with her breath, then turned her attention to Steve.

"So, what's wrong?"

Steve blinked, startled by the bluntness of her question. "Nothing. Why?"

"Because for the last two days you've been walking around as though you're in a daze." She raised an eyebrow. "Sam commented that you look as though you haven't slept, and your grading papers with green ink. Green ink, Steve!" She exorted. "Weren't you the one who said in a Faculty meeting that everyone should mark in red?!"

Steve looked sheepishly at the pen in his hand. She was right. It was green. He tossed it on the table with an irritated sigh. "You're right."

"About the pen? Or the sleeplessness?"

"Both," he conceded. She looked at him. "OK, Rogers, out with it. What's happened?"

Steve bit his lip, and leaned back onto the couch. "I...bumped into an old friend a few days ago. Well, almost."

Natasha nodded, seriously. "It can have that effect." She sipped her coffee. "You feel a bit..." she put the coffee down, then looked at him. "Who was it?"

Steve licked his bottom lip. "Bucky."

"Bucky?" Natasha wondered out loud. "Who is...?"

"James Buchanan Barnes. Heard of him?"

"Heard...oh, God! The model?!" Natasha's eyebrows shot up so far they effectively disappeared. "He's a friend of yours?!"

"Was," Steve said, warily. "We were at school together, served together, then he got spotted, and that was it. Disappeared. And we didn't part on good terms." He shook his head. "And I'm aware he's on Twitter, Facebook...but let's face it, that's so his fans can contact him. Not so the ordinary people can."

Natasha picked up her coffee cup. "Cynic."

"Is it?" Steve challenged. "I was thinking about him yesterday. His birthday. Ten years ago I would have been celebrating with him. Now I don't think he even remembers me."

"Sounds angsty," Natasha said, lightly. "And you have no proof of that."

"I saw him yesterday," Steve interjected. "He was in the back of a car. A limo. He looked right at me, but it was almost as though he was looking...through me. As though I was nobody."

Natasha reached out, and placed a hand on his arm. "Steve."

"Seriously." He shook his head. "It was as though he didn't even know who I was." Steve rubbed his forehead. "So, I really need to forget about him. Only its hard when its someone plastered all over billboards."

She shook her head. "Just...relax about it, all right?" She drained the last of her coffee. "Listen, I've got a class - we'll catch up later."

Steve nodded. Already lost again in thoughts, he didn't even hear her leave.

* * *

><p>"Look, I need that shirt to fall down the back...what is he doing?!"<p>

"For God's sake, Barnes, pull yourself together!"

Bucky blinked, his mind wandering. He was standing in front of a plain white backdrop, clad in a pair of black jeans and a white shirt. A new menswear range. "Simplicity is the key," the photographer had told him. "Previous shots were too fussy. I need you to be relaxed, and easy going."

Bucky was anything but relaxed. The morning gym session with Rumlow had gone badly. The older man had shouted at him for stopping on the treadmill, and almost out of spite, had then loaded up the barbells to the point where he was struggling to lift it.

"You really need to watch it, Barnes," he snapped. "Too much drinking, too much partying. What happened to eating clean and eight hours' sleep a night?" He shook his head. "You carry on like this-" he made a jab at Bucky's flat stomach - "and you'll end up a fat has been at 35 if you carry on like this!"

Bucky's temper flared. "I've been doing this since I was 19," he snapped. "Its called getting older, Rumlow!"

"Forget it, kid, you don't get older." Rumlow's voice, and facial expression, were fierce. "You've got to look as though you're frozen in time. Static. The image of perfection. Don't you get it?!"

Bucky nodded. "I do," he muttered.

"Great, now go and get showered."

So Bucky stood in front of the camera, wishing he was somewhere else. The jeans felt as though they clung too much; the shirt felt scratchy. He sighed, causing the photographer to click his tongue in irritation.

Finally, after another half hour, the shoot was done.

"I suggest you get yourself cleaned up," Rumlow said, icily, as they left the building. "Alex called. He's flying in, wants to meet you for dinner."

Bucky bit his lip. "OK."

"Oh, hanging out for a better offer?"

That did it. He turned to Rumlow. "Tell Alex, thanks but no thanks," he said, his voice rough with anger. "I've got-"

"What?" Rumlow demanded, his dislike flaring openly. "You've got what?"

"Better things to do," he mumbled, walking away, running a hand through his tousled hair as he did.

"You'll regret this, Barnes!" Rumlow shouted, almost beside himself with fury.

"I will," he muttered.

"Who are you going to meet?!" Rumlow demanded, his voice growing progressively louder and angrier.

"Someone I knew," Bucky said, quietly. "A man on the street."

Without another word, he turned and left.

"**All reviews appreciated, thank you! I like to know who is following this!**


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer:** The Winter Soldier does not belong to me. **

"Jesus, Barnes, you're in for it," Rumlow muttered. Pulling out his cellphone, he hastily scrawled through the list of contacts. Finding the one he wanted, he pressed it. A faint ringing tone emerged, followed by a pause. Eventually, Rumlow heard a voice. "Yes?"

"Alex? Brock. He's gone."

* * *

><p>Bucky walked through the street, anger slowly draining and being replaced with a feeling of lightness. He had managed to leave Rumlow, and avoided Alex. He kept walking.<p>

And then paused. He realised he was in an unfamiliar area, and had no idea where he was. Biting his lip, he turned, and noticed a bar. He figured he could spend a couple of hours in there lying low until he had to go back and face Alex. He began to cross the street, and entered.

It was a pleasant atmosphere. Quiet, music piped through - rock, but not loud - and with several people sitting in pairs or small groups, talking and laughing. He checked his watch - half six. The shoot, he thought sourly, had taken far too long. Standing there, as though that was all he was meant to do.

Which, he realised with a shock, he was.

"What can I get you?"

He blinked. The young woman behind the bar was smiling at him. "A beer, please," he mumbled.

"Sure thing."

He felt a stab of satisfaction. Beer. Complete with alcohol, carbohydrate, and other bloating ingredients that would only serve to upset Rumlow further. He accepted it gratefully, and took a sip.

His euphoria was slowly ebbing away. He had no doubt that Rumlow would have immediately contacted Pierce. It was now a matter of time of waiting for him to find him. He ran his fingers through his hair, resenting the long strands. He'd used to have his hair cut short, not just military regulations but also it was because how he liked it. He'd suggested getting it cut a couple of months ago, but Alex had refused.

"Cut your hair?" he'd asked, his voice incredulous.

"Well, I thought-"

"James." Alex's voice was soft, with a slight edge of mockery. "I thought you understood. You're not paid to think. You're paid to look good. You are the biggest asset that my agency has. And if you change your image, and therefore start alienating clients, my agency goes. Understand?"

Bucky had nodded. "I do, yes."

"Excellent. The hair stays." Alex shook his head, as though he couldn't comprehend why Bucky was bothering him over this. "Remember. If you hadn't been picked ten years ago, where do you think you'd be now?"

"I-"

"I'll tell you." Alex was standing up, cutting an imposing figure behind his desk. The light of the late afternoon was shining in through the slatted blinds of the office window, casting him partially in shadow. "You'd probably be living in some rented apartment, on severance pay from the army, drinking yourself stupid." He raised an eyebrow. "So, don't argue with me, James. You'll do as I say. Let's face it - you're getting older, and younger models are coming up all the time."

Bucky got the message. Swallowing, he stood up, and turned to leave. He heard Alex's voice again.

"Oh, and James-"

He turned back. Alex was throwing him a small box.

"Maybe you should try these. You'll be thinner in a matter of days."

Bucky looked at the box, and swallowed. Laxatives. He was tempted to throw them straight back, but instead put them in his pocket, and turned to leave.

"Take them!" Alex shouted. "Might help with the pudginess on your abdomen!"

"You all right, Hun?"

He blinked. The young woman behind the bar was talking to him. He nodded. "Fine," he said, his voice husky. He realised he was gripping the bar, and drained the glass. "Can I have another?"

"Of course."

Bucky smiled. This could prove to be a decent evening after all.

* * *

><p>"So, let's start here and see where we feel like moving on to!"<p>

Steve nodded, and smiled. Sam was determined for him to get out, and Natasha was all too willing to join in.

"Never been here before," Steve commented as they walked in through the doors. Sam looked at him, surprised. "Really? Its only a couple of blocks away from youre place. Still, what are you guys having?"

"Vodka and tonic please," Natasha asked, politely, whilst Steve paused. "Beer."

"You got it." Sam nodded and headed to the bar. As he walked to it, he heard arguing. "Sir, you've had enough."

"Oh, come on," drawled a voice. Sam frowned - the voice definitely sounded drunk, and he realised it was coming from a long haired man who was practically slumped across the bar. "Oh come on sweetheart, jus' give me another beer. I've only had...four?"

"Five," the young woman said, folding her arms. "And I'm not serving you another."

"You can't do that!" he shouted, practically banging his fist on the table. "Don' you know who I am?"

"No, I don't." She shook her head. "You're a drunk asshole, that's who!"

"I'm-"

"Whoa, man, stop it." Sam stepped forward, calmly. "Hey. You don't need another drink. You need to go home."

The man turned and faced him. His skin was flushed and his eyes were red. Sam blinked. "Home?" he laughed bitterly. "Don' have one. But I know Alex is going to be pissed...at me..."

Sam blinked. Suddenly, he heard Natasha's voice. "Wilson? What's up?" She looked at Bucky. "Oh, barfly." She shook her head in disgust.

"Sam, you ok..." Steve had come up behind Natasha, but his voice trailed off. "Bucky?" He looked at him, confusion and shock clouding his features. "Are you-" he looked at him again. "Drunk?!"

"No," Bucky slurred. "I've had a few drinks."

"A few too many," Sam said, nodding. "Come on, pal. Let's get you somewhere you can sleep it off."

"My hotel...don't know where..."

"Hey, my place is only a couple of blocks. I have a couch."

Sam looked at him, astonished. "Steve? He's a stranger?!"

Steve shook his head. "No, he isn't." He swallowed. "I've known him his whole life. Except the last ten years of it."

"Well..." Sam seemed to be struggling to process this surprising flow of information. "Let's get him to my car. He throws up, your cleaning my upholstery."

Steve had already looped one arm of Bucky's round his neck, literally pulling the shorter man to his feet. "You got it."

"Don't know you," Bucky murmured. His voice was softer and Steve could tell he was on the verge of passing out.

"You do." Steve muttered. Assisted by Sam and Natasha, the drunken model was hauled out of the bar.

**All reviews appreciated, thank you! I like to know who is following this!**


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer:** Captain America:The Winter Soldier does not belong to me. Short chapter to move the fic on. **

"Right, let's get him into my car."

Steve looked at Bucky's near limp body and chuckled. "Shouldn't be too hard."

Without asking, Natasha grabbed his legs, and pulled the back door open. She and Steve managed to manouvre the near unconscious man into the back seat. He groaned, his head lolling slightly.

Sam shook his head. "Jesus, Steve," he grumbled. "Has he always been like this?!"

Steve swallowed. "In the army he could hold his drink."

"I guess he's been out of service too long," Natasha remarked. She shook her head. "listen, four of us are not going to fit. I'll find a bus."

"Home?"

"No, to your place." She grinned at Steve. "I know a few hangover remedies he's going to love!"

Steve chuckled, relieved that his friends were being so supportive over such a bizarre situation. He climbed in next to Sam, who cast a glance over his shoulder. "Get in the back."

"What?!"

"Listen." Sam raised his eyebrows. "I'm pretty tolerant. But I will not be if he throws up all over my back. Get in the back. Hey, Tasha!" he roared, as the redhead was already walking down the road. "Get in, Rogers is in the back!"

Natasha hurried back, and settled in the front seat, Steve quickly getting into the back. He pulled Barnes' head up, letting it rest on his lap. The other man was murmuring.

"You guys are so sweet," Natasha quipped, earning a glare. Sam ignored the exchange, and began to drive. Steve looked at Bucky, noting with a jolt how chiselled his facial appearance was compared to ten years ago.

"OK, I'm taking you a couple of blocks," Sam announced. "Does he get that?"

Steve shook his head. "I think he's out for count." Barnes' eyes had closed and he appeared to be sleeping. Steve shook his head. "OK, Bucky, sleep it off."

Natasha looked over her shoulder. "You guys knew each other a long time, right?"

"Practically my whole life," Steve admitted. After a few more minutes, Sam's compact vehicle pulled up in front of Steve's block. Natasha leapt out of the car, closing the door firmly.

"Right, Rogers, let's get him upstairs." Without even waiting to be asked, she helped pull the sleeping man to his feet. He groaned, and coughed. Without blinking, Steve took his other arm, and they half dragged him into the building, and the elevator.

A few minutes later, he was lying on Steve's couch. Natasha glanced round. "Not much of a personal touch, here."

Steve shrugged, looking at the minimalist apartment's decor. "I don't need a lot of stuff." He frowned. Bucky had passed out - his eyes were closed, and his breathing was deeper. Steve shook his head. "Guess I'd better leave him to sleep it off."

"OK." Sam looked at him. "We'd better get going. Shall we swing by, later?"

Steve bit his lip, then nodded. If Bucky woke up, and was rude, unpleasant, and unreasonable, he would appreciate his friends being there. "Yes, do."

Natasha smiled. "We'll bring pizza." Turning, she and Sam headed out of the room, to the door.

Steve sank into an armchair, and sighed. Reaching for his sports bag, he unzipped it, pulled out a stack of essays, and began to read. He looked over at Bucky's prone form. He'd wake up when he did.

* * *

><p>The buzzing of the intercom woke him. He blinked, and rubbed his eyes. First thing he noticed was the papers were half on his lap, half on the floor, and Bucky, to his astonishment, was still asleep. He checked his watch. Half seven. Groggily, he got up, and pressed the button.<p>

"Yes?"

"Pizza!" Natasha practically sang down the phone. "Pizza!"

Smiling, Steve hit the button. Moments later, she was in his apartment. "Where's Sam?"

Natasha shrugged. "His brother called with a problem, he left. So I brought enough for both of us." Pulling back the lid of the cardboard takeaway box, she revealed a large Haiwaiian. Steve nodded. "I'll get plates."

Five minutes later, both were seated. Natasha looked over at Bucky. "So, sleeping beauty still hasn't woken?" She shrugged and took a bite of pizza. "Maybe he will for this."

Steve took a sip of beer. "Hard to say. He's a model. He probably can't eat it."

Natasha looked at him. "Was that a touch of venom I just heard in your voice, Rogers?"

"No." Steve shook his head. "Just saying." He finished his slice. "He's probably-"

Suddenly, they heard a groan. Natasha raised an eyebrow. "Well, well, the Kraken awakes."

Steve got up. Bucky was shifting. "Bucky?" he whispered, putting a hand out on his arm. "Bucky, are you-"

Barnes was blinking, and trying to sit up. As he did so, he turned his head, and fully looked at Steve in the face.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "But...who are you?"

"Its me," Steve said, trying to keep a sharp pang of hurt out of his voice. "Steve!"

"Steve..." Bucky lay back, his head swimming. Suddenly, he blinked. "Steve!"

"Yes," the other man responded, trying to keep his tone light. "Its-"

"Shit!" Bucky yelped, looking at his watch. "Alex is going to kill me - I need to-"

Natasha walked over, and pushed him back down. "You are going to have a killer hangover kicking in in about five minutes," she informed him. "You're staying right here."

"What?!"

"Yes," Steve said, nodding. "Right here."

**All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: The Winter Soldier does not belong to me. **

"So, he's gone, has he?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Rumlow." Pierce's voice was smooth and supple as a snake. "I'm telling you. If he's gone to the nearest candy store, and is currently holed up in the Hotel gorging, he, and you, will be in serious trouble. Do you understand me?"

"I'm pretty sure he's not-"

"Oh, so he's told you, has he?"

"No!" Rumlow could feel the sweat breaking out down his back, making him twist to pull his t- shirt away. "I'll - find him. I will."

"You will."

The phone went dead. Furious, Rumlow jammed it i his pocket, and hurried out into the street.

* * *

><p>"Drink this."<p>

Bucky blinked as Natasha handed him a glass. "What's - in it?" he asked, eyeing it suspiciously. She smiled at him. "Just drink it. It'll help your hangover."

"I'm okay," he protested, taking a sip and grimacing. She flopped into a chair and smirked. "Trust me, any guy that drinks till he passes out is going to have a hangover."

"Thanks," he muttered. "But this is disgusting. I'll pass."

"I suggest you drink it," Steve called from the kitchen. "You'll only wish you hadn't."

Bucky slouched back against the cushions. "Thanks for the suggestion, Steve, but-"

Suddenly, his phone started to ring. A piercing, shrilling sound. He pulled it out of his pocket. "Hello?" His face clouded, and he leaned forward. "Alex - I - I - went for a walk. No,I did. I went for a-"

Steve and Natasha both stopped moving, and listened. Despite himself Steve felt his body tense. He could tell from Barnes' body language that this was not a social call. Suddenly, Bucky jumped to his feet. "Will you listen to me?!"

Steve blinked. He'd heard that tone before. Ten years ago, in their shared apartment. He shook his head and decided to get a glass of water. Then he heard Bucky's voice again. He sounded subdued. "OK, I know. I will be at the hotel. Yes, I will call Rumlow. Alex, I'm-"

He blinked and pulled the phone away, quickly pocketing it. Steve looked at him. "You ok?"

"Yes," he said, nodding. "Listen, I have to go-" he began to stand up, only for a rush of alcohol induced dizziness to hit him. He sat down, choking slightly. Then he got up again. "I need-"

Steve got the hidden message. Grabbing his arm, he pulled him to the bathroom, shoving him in. "Help yourself."

As he slammed the door behind Bucky, Steve blinked. Natasha came hurrying out. "is he ok?"

Steve shrugged. "Guess he can't hold his beer like he used to."

* * *

><p>Coughing, Bucky brought his head up from the smooth porcelain. He blinked, feeling queasy, and moved towards the sink. Using the toothbrush mug, he rinsed his mouth, spitting it out carefully into the bowl and turning on the tap.<p>

He blinked. His hair was matted and his eyes bloodshot. He sniffed and reached for tissue.

He grabbed the sides of the sink. The drinking, the nausea, had all brought back a very unpleasant memory he'd tried to forget. He'd been on a date, with a model who had been trying to break into television. They'd gone to a restaurant, and he'd spent the meal trying to ignore the paparazzi lurking outside, and the fact she was pushing her food round her plate.

"Will you just stop that?" he snapped, trying not to let his irritation show. "Just eat it."

She looked at him. "No, thanks." She put her fork down. "Seriously, James, you shouldn't be eating either."

He frowned. Army training and constant workouts kept his metabolism bouyant, but he would have been the first to admit he liked the finer things in life. "Meaning?"

"Well, I was talking to Brock," Andrea droned on. "He thinks you're looking puffy." She smiled at him. "There is something you could do-"

"I don't want to hear it."

"Well, you could stop the food from digesting by-"

He threw his fork down, disgusted. He'd walked out before she could even protest, tossing a $100 dollar bill on the table to settle his share of the bill. He'd gone back to his apartment, and resorted to drinking a couple of scotches to help him sleep.

The following day, he'd gone to training with Rumlow. The other man had been in an especially vicious mood.

"What's wrong?" he snapped. "Too much rich food last night?"

"I only ate salad," he responded. Which he had. He'd left before being able to properly eat his main course.

"Then what is?" Rumlow asked, exasperated.

"Andrea," he responded. "She suggested I could-"

"What?"

"I could start-" he looked at Rumlow. "vomiting." The word burned in his mouth.

Rumlow looked at him. "Really? Try it." He shrugged. "Alex would probably be delighted, means he can stop worrying about you developing a gut."

His jaw had dropped. "You mean-"

"You're his product, remember?" Rumlow snapped. "I suggest you think about it."

Shocked, Barnes had been unable to think of a response.

"Bucky?"

He blinked. Steve was knocking on the door. "You ok?"

He opened the door. As he looked into the other man's face, he felt a rush of something. Humiliation. He couldn't look Steve in the face, let alone admit the more shameful aspects of his life.

"I'm fine," he snapped, walking past him, and back into the lounge. He grabbed his jacket. "Thanks Steve," he nodded at him, "but I need to go."

Before Steve could begin to protest, he'd hurried to the door, closing it as he left.

**Thank you for reading, please review o.**


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer:** Captain America:The Winter Soldier does not belong to me. Short chapter to move the fic on. **

Bucky stood on the pavement, disorientated and shaking. He felt dehydrated, and his head was starting to pound. He blinked, swallowed, ran a hand through his hair. He had to go back to the hotel.

He tapped his back pocket, and felt his wallet. Walking into the street, he flagged down a cab, practically collapsing into the back. As he gave the name of the hotel, the driver turned and looked at him slightly suspiciously.

"You ok, man?"

"Fine," Bucky muttered, closing his eyes. He just wanted the next twenty minutes to pass peacefully - and slowly.

* * *

><p>"He looked like shit, Rogers."<p>

Steve glumly took a swig of his second beer. Natasha, who had demolished the last two slices of pizza, was looking at him whilst licking her fingers. "What makes you say that?" he asked, trying to hide the pang of anxiety he felt.

Natasha kicked out her legs, and looked into her glass of vodka and tonic. "He looked a little...fleshless."

Steve shrugged. "What can I say. He's lean."

"Was he like that when you knew him?"

Steve sat back. "No," he said, honestly.

"Not sure what I'm thinking," Natasha said, taking another swallow. "He probably lives on salad and water. You know, a model diet."

Steve leaned back. It wasn't so much his physique, although he was the first to accept that he was leaner than he had been when they'd served. It was the haunted look in his eyes. As though he'd had the life drained from him.

"He probably does," Steve said, absently. "No wonder he didn't like the idea of pizza."

"Steve." Natasha put her glass down, and looked at him. "Listen to me. Let him go. The guy who was here is not the guy you knew, and I think you-"

"Yes, I do know that," Steve said with unexpected abruptness. "But - its not that easy." He shook his head. "He looked like-"

"What?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe he's using drugs. Who knows?" Steve smiled crookedly. "But he's not the same person, and yes. Let's move on."

He got up to grab another beer from the fridge. Natasha watched him, her expression thoughtful. Suddenly, she heard a buzzing noise. "Steve? Is that your phone?"

"No, its switched off."

She got up, and noticed a sleek black phone on the couch. Swallowing, she picked it up. "Hello?"

"Oh, great," came an angry male voice. "I try and find him, and I end up speaking to some girl he's picked up. Who are you?"

Natasha blinked. "Sorry? Who is this?"

"Put Barnes on the phone," the voice demanded.

"Barnes?" Natasha said aloud. Steve practically ran over to her and grabbed the phone. "Yes?"

A dark, sarcastic chuckle came from the device. "Oh, great. What is this, a threesome? Never knew he was into that!"

Steve suddenly felt a wave of anger. "No, this is a friend of his. He was here at my place this afternoon. Who are you?"

"I'm his keeper." Another chuckle. "And let me tell you, friend, that if you don't get him back to the Grand Royale in 30 minutes, your life will not be worth living."

"He's already left," Steve said, honestly. "He stopped round for a couple of beers." He swallowed. "Guess his phone fell out of his pocket."

"Oh, wonderful!" The man on the other end said. "So now he's going to look like a bloated wreck - let's hope the laxatives flush it all out!"

"Laxatives?!"

Natasha was looking over at him, her eyebrows so far up they were lost in her hairline. "What do you mean, lax-"

"Oh, we feed them to him to keep him skinny," the man on the phone said, casually. "That and all the other terrible things we do, like making him go to the gym, not letting him eat junk - his body is his fortune and he'll never give that up."

Steve gripped the phone so tightly he thought he'd crush it. "Are you-"

"Thanks, bye." The phone went dead.

Steve blinked. "You got any plans for tonight?" he said, tightly.

"No. Except drinking all your vodka."

"Put it down. You're coming with me."

"Whoa, slow down, Rogers!" She stood up. "Where to."

Steve's expression was inscrutable. "The Grand Royale."

**All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: The Winter Soldier does not belong to me. Short chapter, but couldn't write a longer one. Warning - may be triggering. **

He gripped the edge of the sink, swallowing. He'd managed to avoid Rumlow, but he felt a coil of fear forming in his stomach, threatening to choke him. The alcohol was fermenting, making him feel slightly weak, and queasy. He coughed, tasting bile.

He eyed his appearance. He'd known who Steve was instantly. He thought with affectionate amusement how he hadn't seemed to change, still sporting the wholesome blonde looks he had a decade earlier. The woman he was with he hadn't recognised, but he hadn't liked the slightly cold, appraising look she'd given him. He faced looks like that every day.

He shuddered, and swallowed. He felt nauseous, and suddenly, knew what he needed to do. Kneeling down, he began to lean over the smooth porcelain of the toilet, and rammed two fingers down his throat.

As he coughed, he could feel his muscles spasm. Suddenly, the fluids from earlier in the day spewed out, filling the bowl, splattering it. He coughed again, spitting out a mouthful of bile. But he felt satisfied. Getting up, slowly, carefully, he moved to the sink, rinsing his mouth.

He looked in the mirror again. His eyes were bloodshot, and his face looked slightly puffy. He swallowed more water, and dried himself. Then headed back into the bedroom.

He needed to change. He needed to see Alex.

* * *

><p>"Turn up at his hotel?"<p>

Steve nodded. "Yes." Decisively, he strode into his bedroom, opening the closet, and pulling out a jacket. "I need to."

"Steve-" Natasha's voice trailed off, as though she were unsure of what to say. "Steve, why do you think turning up to his hotel uninvited is going to help? I don't think he wants any help."

"I know him," Steve said, fiercely, pulling his arms into the jacket. "And if he's being forced into something-"

"Whoa, Rogers, what are you saying?!" Natasha looked completely confused. "He's an adult, not a child - its not as though he were kidnapped and brainwashed! He lives a completely different life to you, sure, but are you positive that this is just coming from wanting to help him?"

Steve looked at her, slightly stung by her words. "Meaning?"

"Are you sure this isn't just good old fashioned plain jealousy talking?" The redhead folded her arms and looked at him, directly. "You don't like his lifestyle, but that doesn't give you the right to go in and try and tell him he's wrong."

"You just watch me."

Natasha shrugged, aware that she could not argue with him. "Fine. But I'm going with you." She looked at him. "But I can tell you this - I doubt he'll thank you."

"He will," Steve stated, confidently.

Natasha, saddened by his refusal to see her perspective, followed him out the door.

**All reviews appreciated, thank you! I like to know who is following this!**


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer:** The Winter Soldier does not belong to me. **

Bucky carefully adjusted his tie, and checked his suit was on, and buttoned. Alex would be waiting downstairs. He ran his fingers through his hair, checking for any signs of acid burn.

He swallowed. His throat felt scratched, and slightly raw. He grimaced - he'd brushed his teeth, but could still feel the residue of bile in his mouth. He looked at himself with a resigned sigh. He knew exactly what Alex was going to say. Turning, he left the room, closing the door as he did.

* * *

><p>"He won't thank you."<p>

"You're so sure of that," Steve muttered. He was staring directly head, nimbly moving the car in and out of fast moving traffic. Natasha sat beside him. She seemed resigned to where they were going, but still prepared to needle him along the way.

"No, he won't," she insisted. "He's part of their world, that world, a different world to ours. He is not part of your life any more. Leave it. Focus on what you have."

Steve chuckled, but there was no humour in his voice. "You sound like one of those motivational coaches. Has it occurred to you that maybe he's part of something he can't get out of?"

She shook her head. "If you want to think that, Rogers, fine. But I still maintain this - he's an adult. A grown adult."

Steve gritted his teeth, and continued negotiating traffic.

* * *

><p>"Well, James, you're finally here."<p>

Bucky gritted his teeth as he approached the table. Pierce was already seated, and, he noted, Rumlow. Pierce was picking up his wine glass, his eyes shadowed with disapproval.

"Brock tells me you went AWOL this afternoon." He shook his head, taking a sip of the deep red liquid inside the expensively fragile glass. "Not what I expect of you."

Bucky raised an eyebrow. "I wanted some fresh air."

"You should have wanted a gym session!" Brock's voice was shot through with anger. His shoulders were tense, and he was gripping at the tablecloth. "Have you even bothered to look in a mirror today?!"

Alex looked at Rumlow, shaking his head slightly. The other man snorted with disgust, and made a show of picking up his water glass. Bucky looked at the table, refusing to meet either man's eyes.

"James?"

He looked up. Pierce was smiling at him, sympathetically. "I'll order for you tonight, ok?" He opened a menu. "Salmon."

Bucky swallowed. His stomach felt like it had been braided - he wasn't sure he'd be able to eat anything. "I think I'll just stick with water tonight," he muttered.

Rumlow raised his eyebrows, but refrained from making any comment. Alex tutted. At this, Bucky looked at him directly. "Sorry."

"What's wrong?" Alex probed.

"Nothing."

"I'll tell you what's wrong with him," Rumlow muttered, his words designed to sting. "He's beginning to realise how fa-"

"Brock!" Alex said, reproachfully. "Please. Let's try and be pleasant. Besides, James, I have something that may help."

Bucky raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yes." Alex reached into his pocket, and took out a box. "Here."

He picked up the box, looking at it. It was small, white, and against his better judgement, he opened it. Several foil blister packets fell out. Bucky frowned, holding them up. "What are these, Alex?"

"They," Alex said, leaning over, "are what are going to help keep you at the top of the tree, away from all those young pretenders."

Brock snorted and picked up his water. "He could achieve that by just going to the gym."

Alex patiently ignored him. "They're going to help boost your metabolism. Help you burn fat more easily."

Bucky felt his fingers freeze around the tiny, innocent looking packets. "Where did you get these?"

Alex looked at him. "Why do you need to know?"

"I think I have a right to know what I'm putting into my body," Bucky said, hotly. "Last week it was laxatives!"

"Keep your voice down, huh?" Brock snapped. "Or do you want everyone here knowing that the man who fuels a million fantasies is developing love handles he needs help to shift?!"

"Just take a couple now," Alex soothed. "Here."

Bucky paused. He popped open the packet, and tipped two pills into his hand. They looked smooth, round, harmless. He curled his fingers round them. "Anything you say, Alex."

Pierce smiled. Brock shook his head.

Suddenly, there was another voice.

"Bucky?"

* * *

><p>"Steve, just listen to me," Natasha muttered as they walked into the lobby of the hotel. "This is a really-"<p>

Steve blinked, turning. Through the glass panelled wall of the lobby, he could see right into the restaurant. And in the restaurant, he saw Bucky. With two other men, neither of whom he recognised. "There we are," he muttered. "On the left."

Natasha blinked, finally realising that he was determined to speak to him. She shook her head, and followed him into the restaurant.

* * *

><p>Brock looked up, irritated. "Who the hell is Bucky?"<p>

"Me," Bucky said, quietly. He looked at Steve. "Want an autograph?"

Steve blinked. He'd walked through the restaurant, ignoring the looks of other diners and from the staff. He looked at the other man. "You know who I am," he said, calmly. "And you also know you were passed out on my couch this afternoon."

That got Bucky's attention. He looked up. "Steve," he said, his voice coloured with urgency, "please either sit down, or leave, and don't make a scene."

Alex nodded. "Please, do have a seat." He pushed a wine glass towards Steve. "Join us."

Steve looked at Pierce. "No thanks." He turned to Bucky. "Look, you know me, and I'm here-"

"To do what?" Bucky interrupted, his skin turning red. "Steve, please. I had too many beers, you helped me, now stop stalking me."

"What?" Steve looked at him, his own face beginning to flush. Bucky turned to Alex. "I went to a bar this afternoon, got a little drunk. This guy helped me, but now he's-"

"Harrassing you?" Alex frowned. "That's not acceptable, I'm afraid. Brock, would you mind showing the gentleman-"

"Oh, no, its fine," Steve snapped, shaking his head. "I can leave without assistance. But, Bucky, please. Who are you now? Are you still the person I knew? And what are those?"

Bucky blinked, and looked down at the pills. "Vitamins."

"Really?" Steve cocked an eyebrow. "Since when did you need vitamins?"

"I just do," he mumbled.

Steve shook his head. "This is pathetic. You're pathetic."

"Steve!" Natasha grabbed his arm. "This isn't helping. Come on!"

Steve, regretting his ill chosen words, began to turn away. "Fine. I don't know who you are. Not sure its someone I knew."

Bucky, his jaw dropping, watched as Steve and Natasha left. Furious, he put the pills in his mouth, quickly swallowing them with water.

**Thank you for reading, please review if you wish. **


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer:** The Winter Soldier does not belong to me. **

"So, what happened?"

Steve sighed with disgust, tossing his black biro onto the table. He, Sam, and Natasha were in Sam's lounge. It was Wednesday, a day after his encounter with Bucky in the restaurant. He hadn't spoken a word on the drive back to his apartment, and Natasha had been thoughtful enough not to press or question him.

He looked at Sam. "He looked right through me. Acted as though he didn't even know me."

Sam blinked. "But - why?"

"Brainwashing," Natasha called from the kitchen. "He's only supposed to know all the sychophants and hangers on that get paid to kiss his ass. So he's wheeled out to smile for them and when normal people come along, he freaks."

"Natasha," Sam called, warningly. He shook his head. "I'm sorry, man. Fame does strange things to people."

"Fame is definitely doing strange things to him," Steve rubbed his forehead. "He doesn't even look like the guy I grew up with!" He got up, beginning to pace. "He used to be able to hold an AR14, a backpack, and run with it for ten miles. Now he looks like he could barely walk 500 metres with that!"

"He is a little skinny," Natasha interjected, walking out of the kitchen, holding a glass of water. She folded her legs into a chair, settling herself. "Maybe we should kidnap him and force feed him ice cream." She leaned back in here seat. "And cheesecake. Fatten him back up, then he can't work."

Steve glowered. "Please, tell me that was one of your unfunny jokes."

Sam looked at her. "And if he does have an eating disorder, that will make him worse, you know?"

"Actually, it was a joke," she retorted. "I have no desire to make anyone sick. But I am serious about the too thin. He doesn't look well. But the fact is, he pretended not to know you. Let it go, Steve, please. You were friends, but he has a different life now. And if you persist, he'll only try and get you arrested for stalking."

"He looked at me," Steve said, tonelessly. "Like he didn't even know me."

Sam looked at Natasha. Biting her lip, she looked away. After a pause, Steve spoke again.

"Am I crazy?"

She took a sip of water. "What makes you say that?"

"For feeling like this. About someone who seems to have taken our friendship and trashed it." Steve leaned forward, rubbing his forehead. "I think I am. I'm sitting here, wondering if he's OK, he clearly doesn't care-"

She looked at him. He nodded. "It stops."

"Good."

"Why should I care?" Steve snapped. "He can starve and work himself out to death for all I care." He shrugged.

Natasha took a swallow of water. Not willing to challenge him on a statement she knew was patently untrue, she decided to let the silence fall. Sam sighed softly. For a long, uncomfortable moment, no-one said a word.

* * *

><p>Bucky shifted in bed. He felt too hot, and kicked off the covers. As the pressed, expensive linen collapsed to the floor, he swallowed. Raising a hand, he ran his fingers along his forehead. He was perspiring furiously. As though he'd been for a run, or a particularly vigorous gym session.<p>

Frowning, he began to sit up, and started to reach along his arm, checking for his pulse. It was pounding, causing the blood to roar in his ears.

Concerned, he began to get up, pushing the covers off and walking to the bathroom. Flicking on the electric light, he stared at himself in the mirror. His skin was pale, and his eyes looked bloodshot. Frowning, he turned the tap on, and began to splash water on his face.

"James?"

He blinked, shocked. Going out of the bathroom, and into the main bedroom, he saw a woman was lying in his bed, looking slightly confused. He stared at her, completely uncomprehending who she actually was. "You-?"

"Its Alicia," she said, looking slightly offended. "We met in the restaurant, remember?"

He blinked. He didn't. He didn't remember meeting her, speaking to her, inviting her to his room, or- he shook his head, hoping to clear it. "Did we...?"

She pouted. "You don't remember? Alex said I'd be good for you." She patted the pillows. "Come on, get back in."

He shook his head. "I think you need to leave."

She looked at him. "James, its 2am. I can't just leave. And you're not kicking me out."

"Fine." He walked over to the chair where he'd tossed the clothes he'd been wearing that evening. "I'll just go to reception and ask them to find me another room."

"James." She looked at him. "You're not going anywhere. Now come back to bed."

He looked at her. "Really?"

"To get another room you'll need your wallet." She got up, and began to wind her arms round him. "Which I think you'll find you don't have at the moment."

He looked at her. "Where is it?"

"I gave it to Pierce." She smiled at him. "Now, are you coming to bed, or not?"

Suddenly feeling slightly frightened, he allowed himself to be pulled back to the cocoon of material. As he lay down, his heart began to pound again, and he felt the perspiration.

"Hey," she whispered, stroking his back. "You need to calm down."

He closed his eyes. His heart was still racing. Suddenly, he felt her hands on him. "Stop it."

"Oh, come on," she whispered. "Alex said you'd be-"

He blinked, and began to sit up, quickly, startling her. "Alex had no right to say anything. I'll choose who I sleep with, and I have no memory of even asking you up here this evening."

She looked at him, her eyes narrowing. "Careful, Barnes," she said, her voice a slight hiss. "Alex wants me to keep an eye on you. Make sure you don't suddenly start ringing room service, or sneaking out to get junk in the middle of the night. Alex thinks his investment-" she gave him a sharp dig in the ribs - "is losing his focus."

Bucky fell silent.

"Go to sleep."

* * *

><p>"So, assignments are due, Thursday morning, thank you."<p>

Steve smiled as his students left. It was lunch time, and he needed to head to the Staff lounge to grab coffee and start grading papers. It had been almost a week since his uncomfortable encounters with Bucky, and he was determined to leave them in the past. He hummed quietly under his breath as he began to tidy up his desk, which was covered in scattered papers and pens.

He shuffled the papers, and sank into his seat, sighing slightly. He'd tried his hardest to ignore the encounter, and pretend it hadn't happened. He'd spent the rest of the weekend quietly, catching up on work he'd needed to do, and also trying to watch TV. Work had been busy as usual on Monday, and the students needed preparation for the mid Semester exams. He'd managed to skillfully avoid any long, probing conversations with Natasha, and Sam. He'd gone to work, gone home, and then spent the evening working, or reading. He'd started switching his cellphone off in the evenings so no-one could contact him.

But he couldn't forget about it. He couldn't forget the haunted looking man he'd seen in the restaurant, and on his couch. He looked like a pale, thin, facsimile of himself - devoid of his former personality or charisma. As though he were simply tugged about, pulled around, told to go and do what those in charge said.

"You all right, man?"

Steve turned. Sam was in the doorway. "I'm fine," Steve said, nodding. "Why shouldn't I be?"

Sam's face was tight. "Just wondered if you'd seen the news today."

"Hardly!" Steve laughed. "I've been teaching all morning."

"Well, you might want to log on." Sam swallowed. There was a tenseness to his expression that Steve had never seen before. "On to the internet."

Steve looked at him, slightly bewildered. "Sam...what is this?"

"Sam!" Suddenly Natasha appeared, her expression anxious. "If he doesn't know-"

"Know what?!" Steve felt himself becoming exasperated. "What's happened? Declaration of nuclear war? A terrorist attack?!"

"Just log on," Natasha said, her voice quiet and controlled.

Steve, sighing, logged onto the the school's internet connection. "Go to news."

He did so. "OK," he commented, "Pistorius, Ebola...lovely. Thanks guys."

"I suggest you scroll," Natasha commented, leaning over. "Go to Celebrity Gossip."

Steve followed her instruction. He idly let his eyes slide over banal fluff, and then, suddenly, he felt his blood freeze. "James Buchanan Barnes collapses at Fashion Show", a headline announced.

"Read."

Steve blinked. "James Buchanan Barnes, top male model, collapsed at a fashion show whilst on the runway-" he swallowed, his throat feeling tight. "Apparently suffering from exhaustion and possible malnutrition-"

Sam spoke first. "Steve. Sorry."

"What for?"

"For this."

"Its not your fault." Steve looked at them both. "Anyway, he can afford to have people look after him." He picked up his pen, but Natasha noticed his hand was shaking.

"Don't you want to know where he's been taken?"

Steve looked at Natasha.

"No," he said, softly. "I don't."

**Please review - it is appreciated!**


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer:** The Winter Soldier does not belong to me. **

"Mr Barnes?"

Bucky blinked, his facial muscles twitching as he began to move. He could feel himself entrapped in softness - the feel of cotton underneath his fingers, and against his cheek. He murmured.

"Mr Barnes, if you can hear me," the voice said, "I need you to understand where you are."

He shifted. His heart no longer felt as though it were racing - it had moved to a comfortable pace, the pace he was used to. He began to open his eyes, finally focusing on a middle aged man, whose tired eyes didn't belie the look of kindness he gave him. "Good to see you're awake," the man said, genially. "Do you know where you are?"

Bucky blinked, his mind frantically scrambling for answers. Something felt as though it were digging into the back of his hand. Turning his head, he noticed a clear IV tube taped into the back, a liquid drip steadily delivering itself into his system. The other man moved over, and carefully adjusted it. "Don't want this getting blocked," he informed him.

"What's in it?" Bucky whispered. His throat felt dry. The man looked at him. "Nutrients." He swallowed. "Mr Barnes, are you aware that you're at least 20lb lighter than is recommended for a man of your age, height, and build?"

"No," Bucky said quietly. The lie burned in his mouth. He was fully aware that he should be heavier. He was equally aware of how Alex and other clients would react if he were.

"There are other things too-"

"Your name," Bucky interrupted. "Can I have your name, please?" he smiled tiredly.

"Of course. Banner." The other man gave him a friendly grin, and extended a hand. Bucky took it. "I'm the senior physician. I'll be overseeing you as long as you're here."

"How long am I going to be here?!" Bucky blinked, slightly shocked. Banner looked at him. "Do you remember what happened?"

Bucky shook his head. "No."

Banner frowned. "Are you sure?"

Bucky leaned back. Hours in make up. Another hour of being poked, and prodded. Then onto the runway. He'd felt disconnected, as though he weren't there. As though he couldn't control his muscles properly. His legs had felt sore, tired.

Suddenly, a flash had gone in the front row, disorientating him. Then he'd felt himself shake, suddenly, giving way. He never even felt the hard surface as he crumpled, and smacked into it.

* * *

><p>Steve carefully washed the plate, noting how the suds dripped down the solid china, reflecting the light back through their delicate prisms. He stacked it in the rinser, and grabbing a towel, wiped his hands. Picking up his coffee cup, he walked into the lounge, determined to get finished with his grading. He walked to the window, pulling the drapes, noting the rain splattering with some force against the window. The city twinkled in the distance, an exotic promise, a mirage.<p>

He opened the cardboard folder, and pulled out the remaining essays. He'd refused to read the details of what had happened to Bucky. Refused to consider the implications. Sam and Natasha had looked slightly shocked, but to their credit, neither had argued with him. Sam had merely nodded, as though in silent acceptance. Natasha had looked angry, but this had quickly morped into a resignation.

He picked up his pen, and began reading the first essay. Frowning slightly, he began to make annotations, only for the intercom to buzz. Annoyed, he threw down the pen. He could do without Sam or Natasha's persuasions tonight.

However, Steve also couldn't let them stand out there, in the rain. He walked to the intercom, and pressed a button. "Come on up."

After a few moments, there was a knock on the door. Steve opened it, and blinked. "Tony!"

"Hey," Tony Stark said, affably, grabbing Steve's hand and pulling him into a hug. "Long time."

Steve blinked. "Well, if you will run your own ICT company, that has contracts with every school district in the State, that means you have to travel round the State, giving talks and showing staff how to use your software..."

Tony shrugged, grinning. "What can I say. Its called being successful." He looked at him. "Want to go out?"

Steve paused. He needed to work. But, he also needed company - easy going company that wouldn't judge, or try and make him feel that he still had an obligation to a man he barely knew. "Yes. Just let me grab a jacket."

* * *

><p>"Mr Barnes?"<p>

Bucky blinked. He'd fallen into a light doze, his mind hovering between wakefulness and sleep. A pretty blonde woman was standing in the doorway, wearing light green scrubs. She was holding a tray. "Its nearly Seven. Dr. Banner has this as your designated meal time."

Bucky began to get up. "Oh. Yes."

"Here." She said, kindly, hurrying to his side. "Let me help you. You're a little tied down."

He grimaced. He'd forgotten the IV, which was a glistening reminder of how his body had failed him. Or was he failing it? He blinked - what exactly had happened to him?

"Just let me take your side-" the nurse was saying, her tone gentle. He winced. Her hand - despite its light touch, had accidentally knocked against his ribs. He paused - her facial expression had changed to one of slight shock. But then her professional mask slipped back on. With careful handling, he was soon sitting up.

"OK, food." She looked at him. "Its nothing heavy, I promise. Soup, some bread, and yoghurt." She made a sweeping gesture with her hand. "Please don't panic if you can't eat it all."

Bucky blinked. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she said, kindly. "Just press the button if you need anything."

She began to leave. Swallowing, Bucky picked up the spoon.

"You really going to eat that?"

* * *

><p>"So, how is life?"<p>

Steve took a swig from his beer bottle. Tony had suggested they go to the Cavern, a moderately popular bar downtown. During the week, it was quiet, and the two men had managed to secrete themselves into a booth.

"Life's good," he finally forced out. "Busy."

"As usual."

Steve blinked. Tony seemed hesitant - which was not the normally cocky, confident man's style. He looked at him. "Is there something you want to say?"

"Hey," Tony said, smiling. "Don't get defensive. I just thought you could use some company."

"Oh." Steve blinked, feeling foolish. He suddenly felt a wave of anger towards Barnes. He'd crashed back into his life, was now seemingly crashing out of his own, and as a result, everyone in Steve's life was being regarded with suspicion. Tony looked at him. "Steve...is anything wrong?"

He sighed, rubbing his forehead. He now couldn't really avoid the subject. "Have you ever heard of a man called James Buchanan Barnes?"

"The model?"

"Oh, you have."

"Indeed I have," Tony said, nodding. "I actually approached him once for a contract." He took a sip of beer. "I wanted someone hip, young, and good looking to be the face of the company."

Steve blinked. "Oh. He turned you down?"

"I wasn't even allowed near him," Tony retorted. "A man called Alexander Pierce flat out refused. Said it wouldn't suit Barnes' image." He looked at Steve. "Why is he important to you?"

"He's not," Steve said, tersely.

"Really? Then why are you getting so aggravated?"

Steve put his bottle of beer on the table. "He was my best friend, we kind of lost touch."

"Well, now seems like a good time to get back into it."

"Why?"

"News story," Tony said, casually. "He collapsed on the runway at the show here in New York. Apparently it was drug related."

Steve shook his head. "Can't believe that. Not Bucky."

"Bucky?"

"Nickname."

"So, you don't care, but you still refer to him by his nickname?" Tony's voice was gentle, and as Steve looked at him, he could see concern in his eyes. "Steve, why-"

"Its complicated."

"So?"

Steve looked at Tony. "You really think all problems can be solved, don't you?"

Tony shrugged. "I'm an inventor. Solving problems is my forte. Come on, let's go see him."

Steve blinked."What?"

"Steve. You need to see him. Clearly, this is bugging you. And its going to bug you forever until you do something."

* * *

><p>"Excuse me, Nurse!"<p>

She came back in. "Ah, hello," Pierce said, politely. "Would you mind removing the tray?"

She blinked. "Has he - Mr Barnes - eaten anything."

"He doesn't need to," Pierce said, smoothly. "I'm discharging him."

"Oh," she said, stunned. "I'm not sure you can-"

"I can," Pierce said, abruptly. "And he doesn't need this."

Reddening, the nurse turned, and hurried out of the room. Pierce turned to Bucky, a furious look in his eyes. "What do you remember?"

Bucky was silent. Pierce moved forward. "James-"

"Go on," Bucky hissed. "Hit me. But you won't because you can't damage my face."

"I'm not going to," Pierce retorted. "I know that you, with your victim mentality, would love to see me as the bad guy. But I'm doing you a favour."

"How did I end up here?" Bucky demanded.

"Oh, you fainted," Pierce said, casually. "That's a hazard, James. You really need to learn to spread your calorie intake out throughout the day."

Bucky narrowed his eyes. "What's in those pills you gave me? And that woman, Alicia?"

"She's quite the minder, isn't she?"

"Stop making me a prisoner, Alex."

"You don't have a choice," Alex said, coolly. "You can't be trusted. You'd be out drinking, partying, eating every night. You'd double in size in a week."

"What's in those pills?!"

"A metabolism booster. Nothing more. Helps you burn fat and calories more efficiently. I suggest you keep on taking-"

"What's going on?"

Bucky looked up. Banner was standing in the doorway, with the nurse. "Sharon...would you mind telling me what was said to you?"

"This gentleman has said that he's discharging Mr Barnes," the nurse said, tightly.

"Is that so?" Banner looked at Pierce. "I have to say, I strongly advise against it. Mr Barnes has an irregular heartbeat, the cause of which we are investigating. He's underweight, showing signs of malnutrition. Plus I have reason to believe that he may be showing signs of enforced or voluntary vomiting. This all warrants further investigation."

"I don't think you understand. My client," Pierce said, smoothly, "is a model-"

"No, Mr Pierce, you don't understand." Banner's voice had a lethal edge. "My patient is a 29 year old male showing signs of physical deterioration, and he's not leaving until I'm satisfied. And please do not prevent Nurse Carter from doing her job. He needs food - he eats it. Understand?"

Pierce was scarlet with rage. He walked over to Banner.

"This," he said, practically spitting out the words as though they burned him, "is not over."

Banner removed his glasses and gave Pierce a kind smile. "Mr Pierce. I'm afraid it is. Mr Barnes, you will be receiving a fresh tray - if you really feel you cannot eat, I will call down our nutritionist. Mr Pierce, do you know your way to the exit?"

Bucky watched as Pierce stalked out, his rage palpable. Banner turned to the younger man. "You're going to be all right," he said, softly. "But I do need to do a blood test on you. Get to the root of these heart problems." He smiled. "Now I'll bid you good evening."

Bucky lay back, and smiled as Sharon approached him, with another tray. "Here," she said, gently. "As I said-"

"No, I'm fine," he said, almost abruptly. "I don't need babysitting."

"I-" she blinked, and shook her head. "Well, as you know, any problems, press the button."

She turned, leaving.

He looked down at the tray. The soup had the appearance of bile, but mechanically, he picked up a spoon. As he took a swallow, he felt his stomach shift, as though in protest. Turning his head, he felt himself retch, inserting a finger down his throat, vomiting onto the floor.

Suddenly, he heard a shocked voice.

"Bucky? What are you doing?!"

He blinked. Steve was standing in front of him.

All** reviews appreciated, thank you! I like to know who is following this!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: The Winter Soldier does not belong to me. **

Bucky turned his head, looking at Steve. A cold, uncomfortable silence began to grow in the room.

Steve took a step forward, his face creasing with concern as he looked at the pool of bile on the floor. "This isn't normal."

Bucky shrugged, and looked down at his lap. "So what's normal?"

"This." Against his better judgement, and intentions, Steve could feel his temper beginning to strain. "Spitting food on the floor?! Really?" He shook his head. "Vomiting?"

"It is if you can't swallow it." Bucky kept his head down, refusing to look up. "And I couldn't."

"And why is that?" Steve's tone was low, remembering how he'd promised himself he wouldn't get angry. But as he looked at the man in the bed, he could feel stirrings of resentment. _He chose this lifestyle. He brought it on himself. _

"I'm not used to eating food like that," Bucky said, almost dismissively. "I have a careful diet."

"Of what? Nothing?"

At this, Bucky's head snapped up, and he glared at Steve, his eyes turning into chips of blue ice. "Of not the garbage they feed you here, or gets eaten by the general population. Its not processed."

Steve shrugged. "Sorry man. But you look as though you eat nothing at all." His eyes trawled over the other man's thin frame.

"Well, I do." Bucky scowled. "I'm just careful." He looked at himself. "I just can't get fat, that's all."

"Too careful. And you're a long way from fat." Steve pulled up a chair, and sat down. "Look, I know its been a long time. Too long. And we didn't part on good terms, but that doesn't mean I'm not worried."

"You've got nothing to worry about," Bucky said, abruptly. "I'm fine. I'm getting discharged, and then going home." He looked at Steve. "So you can go back to your cookie cutter life, Rogers, and leave me to mine." He shrugged. "We have nothing in common. I was in your apartment. I could fit it into my bathroom. And you're just a happy little worker drone." He smiled. "So, yes, our lives, far apart. You don't need to involve yourself. At all."

Steve got up. "You're pathetic," he said, quietly. "Really. You are. All you do for a living is wear clothes other people give you, eat what you get told, and look like you're going to drop dead. And when that happens, Buck, I don't intend to be around to see it. I once said I'd be with you until the end of the line. I think we've just reached the end."

Bucky looked up. "You-"

"Mr Barnes?"

Steve turned. Another man was entering - a doctor, Steve assumed from the slightly crumpled white coat. The man looked at Steve. "Are you...?"

"Leaving," Steve said abruptly.

"Steve."

He turned. Bucky was looking at him, a half pleading, half angry expression on his face. Steve had seen that expression before. "He's a friend, Dr Banner. Of mine."

"Oh, fine." The other man blinked, then looked at Barnes. "I'm here to discuss the length of your stay."

"We don't need to discuss it," Bucky said, slightly coldly. "I'm leaving. Steve's here to help me."

Banner's face broke into a smile, which, Steve noted, was more patiently amused than annoyed. "Really?" he asked, turning to Steve. "Because, Mr Barnes, I have to ask you. Do you have any idea how long I can keep you here for?"

Bucky looked at Banner. "No," he said coldly.

Banner's smile froze. "As long as I damn well like. And considering what Haemotology found in your bloodstream this afternoon, trust me - you're not going anywhere."

Steve looked at Bannner. "What have you found?"

Banner swallowed. "Mr Barnes. Do you take recreational drugs at all?"

Bucky looked slightly stunned. "No."

"Mr Barnes. I'm not naive." Banner's voice was calm, with no judgement attached. "I am aware that the use of recreational drugs is sometimes popular among celebrities. So, please, be honest."

"I am." Bucky's voice was tight.

"Then how do you explain that face we found cocaine and amphetamines in your system? And there are signs you've been ingesting regularly."

"I..." Bucky's voice was stunned. "I don't take cocaine. I don't take amphetamines. There must be some mistake."

"I know this is a shock," Banner said, kindly. "But, please, I actually do want to help you. The way you're living, Mr Barnes, you're going to be lucky to see 35."

Steve looked at Bucky. "What happened to you?"

Bucky blinked. "I don't do drugs. I don't."

Banner shook his head. "I'm sorry, but on the evidence I have, you have been using. Your heart is suffering from palpitations, your bones are weak, and you are underweight. It would be easy for me to assume this is due to the drugs, but there is something else - which you're not telling us."

Steve swallowed. "Listen, I think I'd better leave."

"Please. Don't."

Steve looked at Bucky, whose face was white and drawn. "I'll come by tomorrow."

The other man looked at him. "Really?"

Steve nodded. "Yes. See you then." Feeling confused, and shocked, he turned and left the room.

**Thank you for reading, please review if you wish. **


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer:** Captain America:The Winter Soldier does not belong to me. Short chapter to move the fic on. **

The alarm was too shrill. Groaning, Steve turned over, slapping it with his hand, and sank back into the pillows. He'd barely slept, tossing and turning for most of the night. Swallowing, he rubbed his forehead. Work today would be impossible.

Sitting up, he began to stretch. He needed coffee, and also needed to ring work. As he padded into the kitchen, he shook his head. Bucky had intruded on his thoughts all night, slipping in and out of his mind's vision. The pallid figure in the bed bore virtually no resemblance to the man who had been his best friend.

Tony had driven him home. He had waited patiently in the waiting lounge, for over an hour. When he'd seen Steve's terse, angry expression, he'd merely nodded, and got up. On the drive back, Steve had lapsed into silence.

"So, what happened?"

Steve sighed, and gazed out the window. "He's a mess."

"Really?"

"Yep." Steve shook his head. "He's completely out of it."

"What are you going to do?"

"See him tomorrow."

Tony gave him a quick glance. "You are?"

"Yes."

"Steve, his problems are not yours."

Steve gave a half smile. "I don't think there's anyone else to share them."

"Very noble," Tony commented.

Steve shrugged, lapsing into silence.

Shaking himself back to reality, Steve put down the coffee cannister, and trudged back to bed. He needed sleep. And a lot of it.

* * *

><p>"Mr Barnes?"<p>

Bucky blinked, trying to open his eyes, and prop himself up. Banner was standing at the foot of the bed. "I should warn you, you're going to have an uncomfortable 72 hours. This is the beginning of your withdrawal."

Bucky swallowed. His skin was was beginning to feel as though it was itching and he could feel the sweat beginning to form on his skin. He looked at Banner. "I don't do drugs."

"But your blood tests proved otherwise." Banner pulled up a chair, and sat down. "I don't think you really appreciate how ill you are."

"Well, maybe you'd like to explain it to me," Bucky mumbled.

"From general observations, and the evidence on your tests, I'd say you're borderline bulimic. Mr Barnes, _have_ you ever binged and vomited continuously?"

"No."

"Ever felt the pressure to do so?"

"No."

"Ever used or abused laxatives or diuretics?"

"No."

Banner looked at him. Bucky could feel himself flushing, his mouth tasting sour with the lies.

"Ever weighed yourself and felt you were heavier than that? Or looked at photo of yourself and felt it was a lie?"

"Do I look like some airheaded teenage girl, Dr Banner?" Bucky's voice was dangerous. "Do I look like some bimbo whose only concern in their life is their weight?"

"No, Mr Barnes." Banner's voice was soft. "You look like a man who is lying to me. About his health, about his situation. And the more you lie, the worse its going to get." He shook his head. "You are wasting away. I don't know what your celebrity trainers and nutritionists tell you, but you are clearly not eating enough calories to sustain yourself, and the result is a rapid weight loss, aided by vomiting." He leaned back. "And please don't be so dismissive of my teenage patients. I wonder how many of them become anxious over their appearance because of people like you." He raised an eyebrow. "People who end up thinking the only thing that matters it how they look."

"So, what are you going to do?" Bucky asked, his tone sarcastic. "Get one of your nurses to tie me to a chair and force feed me cheesecake?" He raised an eyebrow. "Any volunteers?"

Banner smiled wryly. "If you have that as a fantasy, Mr Barnes, I hate to say it won't be coming true on my watch." He got up. "You'll be served four small meals a day-"

"Four!" Bucky exclaimed. "What, are you really trying to fatten me up?!"

"No," Banner said, patiently. "Just help you function normally. Very small portions of balanced meals - carbs, protein, vitamins. We're not planning on making you obese, or even slightly heavy. Plus fluids. Plus we'll be considering whether we can prescribe you some anti depressants to assist with your anxiety."

"Dr Banner," Bucky said, urgently. "There is nothing wrong with me. I know I'm probably too light, but that's my job. And people do look out for me."

"Are you sure its because they actually care, or is it because you're their paycheck?" Banner's words and tone were direct. "I'm aware there is pressure in your career to look good. But I'm not sure this is the way you want to look - and physically, taking into account your height and build, its not the healthiest, either." He swallowed. "This is not a punishment. Its a chance for you to re-think your life."

Bucky leaned back. "I see."

"I would like to speak to your manager, Mr Barnes." Banner got up. "I'm going to insist he speaks to me. Because frankly, the only thing that might actually really help save your life is leaving this career." He looked at him. "Understand?"

Bucky swallowed. "Yes," he murmured.

"Thank you."

Bucky leaned back against the pillows. He closed his eyes. Suddenly, he was jolted awake. "Bucky?"

He blinked. "Oh. Steve."

**All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer:** The Winter Soldier does not belong to me. **

Bucky looked at his hands, avoiding Steve's eyes. Steve pulled a chair over to the side of the bed and sat down, not waiting to be asked. Finally, Bucky spoke.

"Shouldn't you be at work?"

Steve swallowed. "I called in sick."

"Really?" Bucky raised an eyebrow. "Not like you." He gave the other man a half smile. "Always so dedicated."

Steve shrugged. "Maybe. But I couldn't sleep, so decided I needed some time."

"Oh."

Bucky fell silent again, which fuelled Steve's frustration. "Listen..."

The other man looked up. "What?"

"I think - I know - you're in some trouble," Steve began, "and listen, I want to help you-"

"Forget it." Bucky's voice was curt. Steve blinked, taken aback. "What?"

"Steve. There isn't anything you can do." Bucky shrugged, almost helplessly. "I guess I'm just stuck here, now. Here with the so called professionals."

"Will you at least tell me what it is that's wrong?" Steve leaned forward, trying to meet the other man's eyes, but he refused to look up. "I know you have a disorder, maybe you could tell me what it is."

"Its not a disorder." Bucky shook his head. "I'm just...sensitive."

Steve narrowed his eyes. "You going to carry on lying to me? To yourself?"

"Don't try and play the hero," Bucky snapped. "Remember what happened in Iraq? You made a bad call, nearly leading us into the path of car bomb? You could have got us both killed that day, so don't try and make out that you care. If I hadn't told you that the vehicle was suspicious, and turned, and ran, we would have died."

Steve blinked. A long suppressed memory bubbled up, and became clear. Baghdad, 2004. They had been patrolling, checking the streets. Bucky had noticed the car first, seemingly abandoned, in the street. Steve had wanted to investigate, and walked towards it. Bucky, on noticing smoke, had turned, and ran. Steve had followed him. A few seconds later, a near deafening explosion had ripped apart the comparative calm of the spring morning.

"I-"

"Forget it," Bucky said, his voice seared with bitterness. "You always wanted to be the hero, and I always followed you. Now, I don't follow you. And I'm the one-"

"Who is lying in a hospital bed, with a truckload of bad publicity in every gossip magazine," a voice drawled. Steve turned, slightly shocked. Natasha was standing in the doorway. "Hey Steve. You didn't show up this morning - I kind of guessed you'd be here."

Steve blushed. "Don't tell Coulson."

"No intention of telling anyone," she retorted, entering the room, and perching on the edge of the bed. Bucky looked taken aback, but Steve couldn't help smiling at how characteristically bold Natasha's behaviour was. She was holding a rolled up magazine. "Hey, Barnes. Guess what?!" She opened the magazine, and flapped it at him. "Smile! You're famous!"

Bucky snatched it out of her hand, surprising Steve with his vehemence. His face began to drop. "What?!"

"What is it?" Steve asked.

"This!" Bucky tossed the magazine back on the bed. "This! And get off my bed!"

Natasha grinned. "You're such a charmer, Barnes. Bet you say that to all the girls."

Steve studied the article. "It states that James Buchanan Barnes collapsed whilst on the catwalk, and is being treated for nervous exhaustion." He looked at Bucky. "How is that bad? They're not telling the truth."

"The truth?" Natasha looked at Steve.

"Yeah. That I'm apparently a drug addict and a bulimic." Bucky's tone was sour.

"But you-"

"I said you can't go in there!" A raised voice from outside snapped Steve away from the impending argument. He walked outside, frowning. Banner was in an argument with an older man, dressed impeccably in a designer suit. Steve recognised him. Pierce. Bucky's manager. A swarthy younger man was next to him. Clearly one of Pierce's trained thugs.

"Well, I can," Pierce said, his voice imperious. He gave Banner an icy glare. "There's nothing wrong with him."

"I can assure you that's not the case-"

"Well, he's an adult, and I'm making the decision he can leave." Pierce strode in, and looked at Bucky, completely ignoring Steve and Natasha. "James? Get out of that bed, and get dressed. You're coming with me."

"No, he isn't," Natasha said, boldly, catching Pierce by surprise. "No one takes a sick man out of a place where he's safe. And that includes you."

Pierce snorted. "He's not sick."

"I believe he is," Steve said, stepping in. "Apparently he had drugs in his system. Know anything about that?"

Pierce looked at Bucky. "James? What have you been saying?"

"He hasn't said anything," Banner cut in. "I did some blood tests and found some suspect substances."

Pierce shrugged. "I gave them to him, yes. He didn't have to take them."

Steve and Natasha were both stunned into silence.

"Would you care to repeat that?" Banner asked, softly. Pierce shrugged, and strode towards the bed. "No, I do not." Without another word, he grabbed Bucky's upper arm, and pulled at it, causing the other man to nearly fall out of the bed. "Come on James, you're coming with me. And if anyone in here tries to stop me-" he looked at Steve and Natasha - "I'll have them arrested."

Steve walked forward, and pushed himself in between Bucky and Pierce. "He's not going anywhere."

"I suggest you leave, Mr Pierce," Banner said, "before I get security to throw you out."

Pierce still had hold of Bucky's arm, but began to let go. "I see. Well, I'm not one for social embarrassment, so I will leave."

Banner shook his head as Pierce left. "He won't give up. Mr Barnes - I need to get you out of here."

"To where?" Bucky asked, slightly helplessly.

Steve suddenly spoke. "My place."

All** reviews appreciated, thank you! I like to know who is following this!**


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: The Winter Soldier does not belong to me. **

"Your place?" Bucky spoke, incredulously. "Steve-"

"Its a great idea!" Natasha spoke with enthusiasm. "Think about it. Steve can help you adjust to..."

Bucky looked at her. "Adjust to what?"

"To normal life," she finished, her voice trailing off as his steel blue eyes glared at her.

"I can't go back to normal life," he said quietly.

Banner looked at him. "Mr Barnes. You can do what you like - but for the sake of your health, I'm begging you not to go back to modelling. Continuing in this lifestyle will eventually kill you."

Bucky looked at Banner. "Really?"

"Mr Barnes." Banner's voice was gentle, but his words hit hard. "You need to stay here to try and clear your system. Then I need to do tests on your bones. I am concerned that your bones are losing density due to over exercise, lack of adequate nutrition, and drug use. I've said it before - you're not going anywhere. Please get back into the bed."

Bucky swallowed, and looked at Steve. "Guess I've just been given my orders."

"To try and keep you safe," Banner retorted. "And I'll also speak to security. Mr Pierce will not be allowed in this building, or anywhere near you, without my permission. I am not going to allow him to intimidate or upset my patient." He looked at Steve and Natasha. "Will you both stay here while I speak to Pierce?"

"No problem," Natasha said, and quickly hopped back on the end of the bed. "So," she said, smiling. "Let's get to know each other."

Bucky raised an eyebrow. "No offence, you're not really my type."

Natasha leaned forward. "Why? Is it because I'm not six feet tall and built like a broom handle?"

Bucky swallowed. "No," he said, honestly. "You're just a little..."

"A little what?" she challenged.

"Forward," he finished weakly. He looked helplessly at Steve, who couldn't help smiling. He vividly remembered how only a decade before, Bucky would have loved a girl like Natasha to come onto him. Her slightly sardonic, flirtatious style would have matched him perfectly.

"I'm forward?" Natasha arched an eyebrow. "You haven't seen me being forward, trust me."

Bucky swallowed. "I-"

Steve chuckled. "Come on Nat, play fair. The guy's not at his full capacity right now." He looked at Bucky. "Are you?"

Bucky sighed. "I guess not."

Natasha swallowed. "Listen, I think I'll get some coffee. Steve?"

"Please."

"OK. Coming up!" The redhead gracefully swung her legs off the bed, and hopped down, breezing out. As she left, Steve turned to Bucky. "Sorry. She doesn't mean anything."

"Hey, she's sweet," Buck mumbled. He looked at Steve. "Go on, say it?"

"Say what?"Steve asked, innocently. "Say that a while ago, she was your type?"

Bucky smiled. "She's different to the women I know now."

"Yeah." Steve nodded. "She actually puts food in her mouth, chews, and swallows it."

The other man nodded. "Yes." He fell silent. "Steve. Where you telling the truth?"

"About what?"

"About me...living with you for a while."

"I was." Steve looked at him. "It'll be good for you. You can recover, a bit. Talk to me about what's going on with you."

Bucky swallowed. "I- well-"

"Look, it doesn't have to be for a long time," Steve said, quickly. "But you'll need someone to assist you-"

"Steve." Bucky said quietly. "How did I end up like this."

"I don't know," Steve said quietly. "You used to eat - normally!"

"But back then how I looked wasn't how I earned my living," Bucky argued. "It was just-"

"Listen," Steve said, his voice firm. "I will make it very clear. I will not tolerate you vomiting in my house. Understand? If I ever find the bathroom or anywhere else shows signs of that-"

"You'll kick me out," Bucky finished, dully.

"No, I'll be bringing you back here."

Bucky nodded. "I see. Well, if that's the deal-"

Suddenly, Natasha appeared, carrying two vending machine cups. "Oh - Bucky - did you-"

"I'm not allowed caffeine at the moment," he said, smiling at her. A genuine smile, Steve noticed. Natasha swallowed, and Steve could have sworn she was blushing slightly. Suddenly, Banner put his head round the door. "Mr Rogers, a word?"

"Go," Natasha said, smiling. "I'll keep his majesty company."

Bucky raised an eyebrow. "Don't you know who I am?" he said. Natasha smiled. "Yeah. A patient."

Steve followed Banner to his office, and closed the door after he entered. Banner sank into a seat. The office was small, crammed with medical journals and files. Smiling, Banner looked at Steve. "I appreciate the fact you've offered Mr Barnes somewhere to stay."

Steve nodded. "Well, I thought it would help him."

The doctor nodded. "It will. But, Mr Rogers-"

"Steve, please."

"Steve. Let me make this clear. He'll need a very bland, simple diet. Plain rice, soup, nothing too heavy in carbohydrates, or sugar. His body won't process it. Also, exercise."

Steve swallowed.

"I'm going to be honest. I would not keep large quantities of food in your house. When a bulimic feels the need to binge, they will. As for exercise, don't take him on any ten mile runs. He'll collapse."

Steve swallowed. "He's that bad?"

Banner nodded. "20 lbs under his optimum weight. I want him to put weight on, but slowly. Too quickly, and he'll start looking to lose it."

"What causes this?" Steve asked.

Banner looked at Steve. "I think, with Barnes, its due to the toxic environment he's working in. Too much perfection thrust at him, too much control by other people, maybe he feels this is the only way he can control his own life."

* * *

><p>"So," Natasha asked. "How long have you and Steve known each other?"<p>

Bucky looked at her. "Since we were kids."

"Then you drifted apart?"

Bucky swallowed. "I left the army, he didn't." He shrugged. "Still, we're-"

"OK, James, time to go." Suddenly, Brock Rumlow appeared. Bucky blinked. "What?"

"Seems Alex can't come in here, but I can." Rumlow looked at him. "Come on, get up!"

"He's not leaving," Natasha said, stubbornly. "That's what the doctor said."

"Well, he is." Rumlow walked over, and grabbed Bucky by the arm. "Come on, now!"

"You can't just-"

Rumlow ignored her. To Natasha's shock, he had Bucky on his feet, and walked him past her. "Don't worry about clothes - Alex has it all sorted out."

* * *

><p>"Well, I look forward to him going into your care," Banner said smiling. "Let's tell him."<p>

Steve nodded, and they got up, walking towards the door. As they headed back to Bucky's room, they encountered a distraught looking Natasha. "Steve!"

"What is it?" Steve asked, shocked.

"He's gone," She gulped.

"What?"

"He's gone!"

Turning, Steve ran back towards the entrance. In time to see Bucky being pulled into a dark car.

**Please review - it is appreciated!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: The Winter Soldier does not belong to me. **

"What the-" Steve looked in disbelief as the car peeled away and moved swiftly down the curving drive. Stunned, he took a step back, almost knocking over Natasha, who was right behind him.

"You cannot tell me they just took him," she said, helplessly.

"They just did."

Suddenly, they heard footsteps. Banner, breathless and red faced, was behind them. "Please don't tell me that they just took my patient."

"Afraid so," Natasha said. The doctor shook his head. "I really don't want to have tell my boss this."

"Your boss?"

"Nick Fury. Head of the Hospital." Banner looked ashen. "He generally isn't too impressed when patients leave of their own accord. And even less impressed when people take them."

Suddenly, a booming voice erupted over the drive. "_BANNER!"_ Turning, the three saw a smartly dressed black man, glaring at them. His jaw was set rigidly, and one eye blazed across the tarmac.

Banner looked at Steve and Natasha and smiled tiredly. "He's right on cue."

* * *

><p>"OK, time to get out." Rumlow grabbed Bucky's arm. They were parked outside a magnificent townhouse. Bucky recognised it. Alex's house. So he couldn't be traced back to the hotel.<p>

"No!" Pierce frowned at Rumlow, annd shook his head. "Please be gentle. I don't want him bruised."

Bucky's mouth twisted. "Why? Got another photo shoot lined up for me, have you?"

Rumlow looked at him. "Hate to say this, but unless they've got a wide angled lens, you're in no shape for a shoot."

"Yeah, that's right," Bucky shot back, pulling his arm away from Rumlow's. "You do know I'm underweight, right? For my height, and my age?" He looked at Rumlow, completely ignoring the fact he was still in a thin hospital gown, which barely shielded his dignity. "And all you do is tell me the opposite."

Rumlow shook his head. "I tell you the truth. I'm paid by Alex to tell you the truth. The so-called professionals want to fatten you up, Barnes, fine, go back to them. I guarantee in two week you'll be the size of a house. And then what are you going to do? Go on a reality TV show to lose the fat? Yeah, that might just suit you."

"Please!" Pierce's voice was sharp. "Brock, would you please go to the gym and wait for Bucky there? I need to talk to him." He looked at Bucky, and smiled kindly. "Come on. Let's go inside."

Bucky snapped to attention, suddenly realising he was outside, almost half naked. Feeling embarrassed, he turned and followed Alex inside. As they moved into the modern, sparsely, furnished hallway, Alex opened a door. "Here. Kitchen."

Bucky walked in. "Take a seat."

He sat down at the kitchen table, wondering where this was leading. Pierce moved to a large, sleek metallic fridge, and opened the door, pulling out a carton. "Want some milk?"

Bucky looked at him, one eyebrow raised. "Thought you told me that dairy would go straight to my hips?"

Alex smiled. "Look, you have lost weight. I'm not completely heartless. You do need calcium." He poured a glass. "Sure you don't want some?"

Bucky shook his head. "No. Thanks."

"I'm interested to know what they told you at the hospital," Alex continued, taking a sip, before walking over and sitting down. "Please tell me."

Bucky shrugged. "That I need to put on some weight."

Alex looked at him. "So you're like the rest of the obese population? Interesting."

Bucky raised an eyebrow. "That my bones are weak, and I'm at risk of health problems if I continue in this career." He looked at Alex, directly.

"I see." Alex nodded. "Anything else?"

"That apparently my blood contained traces of speed and cocaine." Bucky's voice hardened. "You know I would never take crap like that. You know, Alex."

"What are you implying, James?"

"That you gave me pills. Told me they were laxatives, metabolism boosters - and they were narcotics." As he spoke, Bucky could feel himself sweating slightly, as though in withdrawal. "You were drugging me."

"You took them." Alex shook his head. "You didn't have to. You could have just thrown them away. And you didn't. What does that tell you about yourself?"

Shocked, Bucky fell silent. He had taken them. He hadn't trusted Alex - but he hadn't hesitated to take them.

"You make think I programme you, like you're a doll-" Alex's voice was soft and sibilant - "but you've always been free to do as you want. But the truth is, you love this. You love the money, the fame, the women. Without this, you'd be a fat nobody, living on retirement pay from the military." He got up. "Go and get dressed. The spare room is upstairs, first door on the right. We leave in two hours."

Bucky was silent. Pierce drained the glass, got up, and left the room.

**Please review - it is appreciated!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: The Winter Soldier does not belong to me. **

"They just took him?!"

Steve felt himself recoiling slightly at the anger in Fury's voice. The Hospital Director had demanded that all three of them accompany him upstairs, to his office. As they had walked to the elevator, Steve could have sworn that Banner's hands were shaking slightly.

"You all right?" Natasha had asked, noticing it too. Banner shrugged. "I'll survive. Fury's tough, that's all."

It was only when they arrived in his office that Steve realised that Banner was telling the truth. Fury was pacing, his expression inscrutable.

"So, you're telling me, Dr Banner-" Steve heard the edge of sarcasm in his voice - "that this guy just walked in, and took our most famous patient?! Just took him?!"

Banner gave the other man a wry smile. "Come on, Nick. You're not going to tell me that you think Barnes deserved special dispensation because he's famous?"

Fury spluttered slightly. "Not special dispensation - but you do realise the press will be all over this?"

"Thy won't be," Banner stated, firmly. "The press didn't even know he was here."

"Plus," Steve interjected, "I doubt they would even recognise him. He wasn't looking his best when he left."

Fury, now seated, leaned back, his expression thoughtful. "Do I detect some hostility in that tone?" He leaned forward on the desk. "May I ask how you know our departed patient?"

Steve swallowed. "He's a close friend."

"Then why so hostile?"

Steve looked at Fury. "Sometimes rekindling friendships doesn't go to plan."

Fury nodded. "I see." He looked at Natasha. "You Barnes' girlfriend?"

"He should be so lucky," the red head retorted, and Steve couldn't help but smile. Someone like Natasha, he thought, would be very good for Bucky - if they saw him again. She'd tease him, feed him - and appreciate him.

"So," Fury said, breaking into Steve's thoughts. "How are you going to find him?"

* * *

><p>"You ready, Barnes?"<p>

Bucky swallowed, biting back the insult he felt rising to his lips. Rumlow seemed determined to needle him, but he refused to give in. He opened the door to the room, and gave the other man a pleasant smile. "I am."

Rumlow nodded. "Good." He cast a critical eye over Bucky's body. "Did they feed you in that hospital?"

Bucky glared at him. "First you tell me I'm fat, now you imply I'm too thin."

Rumlow smirked. "From what Alex has said, you've got an eating disorder already. I'm just reminding you of it." Rumlow lowered his voice. "Isn't that what its like, Barnes? You have this little voice, sometimes telling you you're fine, other times telling you that you'll be lucky to get through the door?"

Bucky swallowed. "I'm not confiding in you, Rumlow."

"Don't want you to." The older man shrugged and turned away. Then, to Bucky's surprise, he turned back.

"Barnes. I didn't know..." he paused. "I didn't know about the cocaine Alex was giving you."

Bucky raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yes," Rumlow admitted. "You know I don't go in for that shit - I thought you just needed to be more disciplined in the gym, I wouldn't have you taking anything."

"But even if you had known-" Bucky paused, not wanting to hear the answer to the next question - "would you have said anything?"

The pause that emerged after this was tense. Both men looked at each other, neither wanting to break eye contact. Rumlow turned away first. "Come on. You'll be late."

Bucky followed him, his heart pounding. As he walked down the steps, he noticed Alex was already sitting in the car that was waiting. "Get in," he said, not unkindly. Swallowing, Bucky did as he was told.

"Now, James," Alex said, his voice kind. "I was thinking, while you were in that awful place. You do need a rest, so you're going somewhere to have a break for a few days."

Bucky looked at him, feelings of distrust starting to mount. "Where?" he demanded.

Alex chuckled. "If I tell you it will spoil the surprise."

"I'm not a child, Alex!" Bucky snapped, fear roughening his voice. "I want to know. You took me out of the hospital - tell me where you're taking me."

His hand had shifted to the door handle, and was gripping it. The car was already moving in traffic. Alex looked at him. "James-"

Bucky didn't hesitate. He began to pull at the handle, only to find it would not budge. He looked at Alex, furious.

"Central locking. Wonderful invention." Alex stretched out. Rumlow, who was sitting next to the driver, snickered. Bucky slumped in his seat.

"Just relax James." Pierce opened a newspaper, burying his face in it. "We'll be there in two hours."

* * *

><p>"So, I guess its time to accept it."<p>

Steve looked at Natasha as they pulled out into traffic. "Accept what?"

"That he has gone." She shook her head. "Seriously, Steve, this guy is a ghost story."

Steve shook his head. "Time to find out what the ghost wants."

"I don't think he does." She looked at him. "And you can stop plotting, Rogers."

"Plotting what?"

"That you and he are going to be best friends again, and I'll conveniently be his girlfriend." She smirked. "He's too skinny. And I bet he spends more time in front of the mirror than I do."

Steve relaxed, and actually laughed. "Let me tell you a secret." He gave her a quick glance. "He spent hours in front of the mirror before he became a model!"

Natasha laughed. "Doesn't surprise me at all." Her face became serious. "But you do know that he needs specialist help. You can't just find him, put in your apartment, and feed him for a week."

"I know," Steve said, frustrated. "But-"

"But what?"

"Pierce," Steve muttered. "We need to find him. Then we can help Bucky."

"We?"

"Yes, we."

"If you say so."

* * *

><p>"We're here, James. Wake up."<p>

Bucky blinked, realising he must have fallen asleep. But, as he moved, he suddenly wondered if had simply fallen asleep - or if he had been drugged. He opened the door, and noticed that they were in the drive way of a large house.

"Where are we?" he asked, slightly confused.

"Conneticut," Rumlow answered. He nodded at Pierce.

Pierce smiled at Bucky. "Come on."

"What is this place?"

"Oh, its a health farm." Alex threw Rumlow a look, who smirked in response. As they walked up the steps, the door was opened by a young woman dressed in a white and navy uniform. "Mr Pierce?"

"Correct." Pierce nodded. "Can you tell him we're here?"

"Of course." As she walked away, Bucky felt a sense of unease. The place was eerily quiet. As they walked into the gracious, beautifully decorated entrance, Bucky found himself looking at the tall, curving staircase, and blinked. It was too elegant to be a health farm, and the silence was unnerving.

"Mr Pierce?"

Bucky blinked. Alex was already walking towards a short, balding man, whose large horn rimmed glasses gave him a comical air. Pierce's hand was outstretched. "Dr Zola. Good to see you again. And thank you, considering the short notice."

"Its no problem," the man insisted, in an accent that Bucky couldn't place. "When you present a fine specimen to me like this-"

Pierce chuckled. "I know. He's on the edge. He doesn't need much to tip him completely."

"Alex-" Bucky said, his throat closing up. "What are you-"

Alex turned back to him. "James, this is Johann Zola, a psychologist. He's very interested in treating people who have the kind of issues you do. But in your case, he's going to make an extra effort."

Bucky looked at Alex. "If I have any problems, Alex, you caused them."

Pierce shook his head. "You're always so quick to blame everyone else. You're unstable, erratic. Now, listen to me. You're here, and I've already made sure Rumlow has your cell phone, your bank account's frozen, and I have your credit cards. You can't buy your way out of here. You're staying."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because I need to break the connection with your past." Alex's eyes burned. "Ever since the man in the restaurant - Steve - came back into your life, I've noticed you want to give this one up. But what would you do?"

"He's an old friend. I don't see-"

"You ended up in hospital. I can't have this in the press." Alex shrugged. "You're staying here. And when you're ready, you can leave."

Bucky was dumbstruck. Pierce turned and walked towards Zola. "Remember - no rich food, no sugar, no carbs-"

"Alex," Pierce interrupted. "He looks too thin-"

"Keep him that way," Pierce tossed over his shoulder. Suddenly, Bucky felt his arm being grabbed, and him being pulled backwards, away from the door, away from freedom.

**Please review - it is appreciated!**


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer:** The Winter Soldier does not belong to me. **

Bucky felt himself being tugged along by the two male nurses. Both were impeccably dressed, in white shirts, dark trousers, and bow ties. Before he could find his voice, he was pushed into a room, where a large leather chair was put prominently in the middle.

"Take off your shirt," one of the nurses instructed, his expression unsmiling. "Then sit in the chair."

Bucky blinked. "No," he said, coldly. He made to walk past the other man, but found himself pushed back down, forcefully.

"Do as I say," the other man said, angrily. "Or we will sedate you. Understand?"

Bucky, furious, lashed out with his fist. His military training came back to mind, and his backhanded slap sent the nurse flying to the floor. Shocked, he looked at him. Bucky stood up.

"I have no idea what you think you're doing," he snapped, "but I didn't agree to come here, and I'm not going to do what you ask!"

The nurse, stunned, looked at him. Suddenly, he heard another voice. "Mr Barnes?"

Bucky turned. Zola, frowning, was looking at him. "Mr Barnes, please, calm down."

Bucky looked at him. "I don't know who you are, but what you're planning-"

"Mr Barnes, you have no idea what I'm planning. So you can't warn me." There was a smugness to the man which made Bucky's flesh crawl. "Please, have a seat."

"Why? So you can give me ECT, or something?" Bucky cast a glance around the room. "I've seen this type of thing before. I'm ex-military, remember? I know the methods you can use to torture people into agreeing with you."

Zola blinked. "Pierce has underestimated you." There was a small smile on his face. "I think he thought you were just a male blow up doll without a brain. But you clearly do still have one."

"Well, I'm not too sure," Bucky said, bitterly. "Because if I did, I would have run when I had the chance."

Zola nodded. "Maybe. But you can't do that now." Turning, he shouted. "Now!"

Bucky blinked. Two male nurses were suddenly on him, one punching him in the face, pushing him to the ground.

* * *

><p>"Brock? Are you all right?"<p>

Rumlow looked up. He was sitting opposite Pierce. "I'm fine, thank you, Alex. I'm just..."

"Just what?"

"Just wondering why you left him there." Rumlow's face crinkled with confusion. "What are you going to tell the press?"

Pierce smiled. "You'll see." He leaned back. "This is a golden opportunity, Brock, for both of us."

Rumlow leaned back. His growing sense of unease was becoming sharper by the minute. "For both of us?"

"Well, put it this way. By the time Zola's finished, he'll be begging for me to help him."

Rumlow swallowed. "Did you give him cocaine, Alex?"

Pierce shrugged. "Does it matter?"

"Yes!" Rumlow expressed, leaning forward. "Cocaine can cause heart attacks, it can cause-"

"If it keeps him thin-"

"He's too thin," Rumlow complained. "You wanted him toned, not skinny, remember?"

Pierce bristled, and raised his newspaper. Rumlow fell silent.

* * *

><p>Steve threw his car keys on the counter, angry, and frustrated. Natasha, who had followed him into the apartment, looked at him. "Steve-"<p>

"What?" he snapped, turning. She blinked, not used to seeing such vehemence in his face, or hearing it in his voice.

"Steve, there is-"

"Something I can do," he muttered. "I can look for him. Alexander Pierce has contacts, and he knows people-"

"STEVE!"

He looked up. Natasha was looking at him. "Steve, please, leave this. He's gone. Lost. He's completely under Pierce's control, and he'll only break away when he feels he can. Until then-"

She stopped, but Steve heard the heaviness in her voice, the sound of someone who believed in the futility of what she was saying. She sat down, and looked at him. "I'm sorry-"

Suddenly, she blinked. A choking sob was coming from Steve, the sobbing of someone who feels defeated. Without asking, she got up, and put her arm around him, drawing him close.

* * *

><p>"Oh, that's perfect!"<p>

"He looks bruised."

"As log as you haven't broken those cheekbones-"

"Zola, I hit him. Twice. He'll survive."

"Excellent. Ready to record?"

* * *

><p>"I'm sorry, Nat," Steve apologised. Sam had come over at Natasha's request, and to Steve's surprise, she had also contacted Tony. The four of them were sitting in Steve's lounge.<p>

"You need to let this go, kid," Tony said, kindly. "It sounds as though Fury summed it up - they can't do anything if the patient won't co-operate."

"But-" Steve leaned back. "I just feel as though there's something I can do." He sighed, and checked his watch. "Oh, well. Guess its time to return to normal life." He smiled. "Pizza, anyone?"

Sam laughed. "I'm in. Nat? Tony?"

"I should head home," Natasha said, standing up. "Clint will be wondering where I am."

"Come on, sweetheart, I'll drop you," Tony said. Standing, he drew Steve into a hug. "Look after yourself. Barnes...leave him to it."

Steve nodded, as they drew back. "Guess I'm going to have to."

As the door closed, Steve sloped back to the couch. Sam was flicking through his cell phone. "I'll order the food."

"OK." Picking up the remote, Steve flicked on the TV, randomly surfing. He saw nothing that captured his interest, until suddenly, he blinked. On the screen was Bucky's face - with a large amount of bruising. And to Steve's shock, the camera suddenly cut to Alexander Pierce. He looked rumpled, tired, and worried.

"-completely shocked me," he said, his voice sounding slightly broken. "There we were, driving, and suddenly, the car was stopped, and these men pulled out James. They waved a gun in my face-"

Steve shook his head. This wasn't happening. Couldn't be happening. Stunned into silence, he sat and watched.

All** reviews appreciated, thank you! I like to know who is following this!**


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: The Winter Soldier does not belong to me. **

"Mr Pierce, would you like to explain what happened?"

Steve watched, incredulous, as the camera loomed in on Pierce's face. Despite the distraught expression, Steve swore he could see an almost smirk in the man's eyes. As though he were playing a game, one in which he'd managed to outwit all other players. He nodded, and opened his mouth.

"Steve? I ordered-"

"Shh," Steve said, quickly, holding up a hand. Sam looked slightly puzzled, then sank down onto the couch next to him. Pierce had begun to speak.

"We were driving to the airport - I accompany James on all his photo shoots." He nodded, and then reached into his pocket for a handkerchief, holding it to his face. "We were in traffic, the door was wrenched open - and James was pulled out. I'm sure there are people watching this who know where he is."

Steve was stunned. Pierce was so smooth, so convincing...he swallowed, and hunched forward.

"James is very trusting," Pierce said, his voice quiet. "Very trusting. You have to understand, he's lived in a cocoon for ten years. He doesn't really mix with people, and he doesn't mean to, but he is a model. He has celebrity."

Steve felt his anger build. Sam looked puzzled, but said nothing.

"Whoever took him, please, return him. I will pay you what it takes. James is like a son to me." At this point, Pierce choked out a sob, and Steve, snorting with disgust, got up and switched off the set. Sam looked at him. "Well?"

"Apparently Bucky's been kidnapped," Steve said, shaking his head. "I don't believe it. Don't believe it all."

"He is a celebrity," Sam pointed out.

"No. Its too convenient." Steve sank back down on the couch. "Its too convenient that he goes into hospital, is then taken from the hospital, and then disappears. There's something else. Its as though Pierce wants to get rid of him. Quickly. No questions."

"Steve-" Sam looked at him. "You're jumping to conclusions."

"I'm making the right ones." Steve sank back down. "Pierce took him from the hospital. Pierce wants him gone. What's next? He's found-"

Steve paused. The thought that was crossing his mind was too dark to be uttered. Sam's face was creased with concern.

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know." Steve shook his head, and leaned back. "All I do know is that Bucky's gone, and I have no idea where he is."

Sam swallowed. "Listen man, pizza is arriving any minute. Get onto Google."

"What?"

"Let's see if we can start tracing."

* * *

><p>Pierce wiped his face as he walked back to the waiting Limo. Rumlow was waiting for him. "Thank you," Pierce said politely to the driver, as it pulled away. He looked at Brock. "Well?"<p>

The other man nodded. "Very...smooth."

"Wasn't it?" Pierce chuckled. "Well, I intend for people to look for him. Of course, they won't find him."

Rumlow swallowed. "I see. So, is this going to be that he's kept with Zola for a while, then we find him."

Pierce shrugged. "Perhaps."

Rumlow blinked. "Alex...Sir...you do intend for him to come back?"

Pierce looked at him. "Well, he is getting a little old, don't you think? There's only so much we can do to keep him at his prime." He shrugged. "Sometimes you just have to let people go."

Rumlow looked at Pierce, uneasily. "What are you going to do? Give him a pay off?"

Pierce shrugged. "Not necessarily. He's becoming an inconvenience. He's sickly. I'm not sure I can handle a bulimic."

Rumlow blinked. "But, Alex, isn't that-"

"Isn't that what?"

Rumlow closed his mouth. "I think we could find a-"

"A replacement? Yes, I think we have. In fact-" Pierce smiled - "I think we already did."

**Thank you for reading, please review if you wish. **


	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer:** Captain America:The Winter Soldier does not belong to me. **

"Sergeant Barnes?"

Bucky blinked. He'd been asleep, and as he moved uncomfortably, realised it was for longer than he'd planned. He began to move, his head aching, and each movement sending a fresh jolt of pain into his skull.

"Sergeant Barnes?"

He began to focus. Zola was standing at the foot of his bed. "I suggest you try and wake up. You've been asleep for nearly 24 hours."

"24?" Bucky's voice felt weak, and he tried to stand, only to realise that he couldn't move his legs.

"I'm sorry but we had to restrain you," Zola said, calmly, looking at him. "We can't risk you trying to run, although you won't get very far. No one knows you're here."

Bucky frowned, and lifting up his head, saw that his ankles and wrists were restrained. He shook his head. "You can untie me. I know I'm not going anywhere."

"Of course." Zola clicked his fingers, and pointed. Two male nurses moved noiselessly out of corners of the room. Bucky felt their fingers unbuckling the restraints, and with a sigh of relief, began to sit up, flexing his arms and legs, hoping to revive his circulation.

"Better?"

"Yes. Thank you." Bucky swallowed, and looked round the room. In the clear daylight, the room was comfortable - a bed, a bed table, a small desk with a chair. But, he also noticed the door leading to the bathroom. And felt his chest constrict.

"You will not be watched when using the facility." Zola pointed towards the bathroom. "I know all about your disorder, Sergeant. How embarrassing for you."

"Embarrassing?" Bucky choked out. "Want to explain that?"

"Of course. You're a grown man, and yet you panic at the sight of mirrors. And at the sight of food."

"Not true." Bucky felt a spurt of anger. He actively tried to avoid looking in mirrors - but he felt that was due to having to stare in them for work purposes. But now, he felt a tiny thought weave into his mind. _You hate looking at yourself. Its never as good as what you see on the billboards._

"There is resignation in your voice," Zola commented, his own voice edged with arrogance. "Think about this. Ten years ago, you were Sergeant Barnes, out in the Middle East, responsible for saving lives and protecting them. And now look at you. You're only famous for how you look. And what do you think you look like?"

"I don't know," Bucky mumbled.

"You look like a skeleton." Zola's tone was cold, as though he wished to cause more discomfort. "That's what they thought at the hospital. But Alex still thinks you could do with losing more, and you know the only way to do that is -"

"Stop it." Bucky didn't look up, but kept his eyes on the floor.

"What did you look like when you were serving, Sergeant Barnes?"

Bucky swallowed. What had he looked like? He hadn't been as toned as Steve, he'd known that. But Steve, he'd thought reflectively, was a good three inches taller, with broader shoulders. Bucky was slightly stockier, but he'd been toned, and in good shape. Capable of running two miles carrying a loaded weapon and a pack. Capable of helping pull members of his team out of rubble.

And he'd never had any issues with being attractive to women. When he and Steve had been at home, and off tours, it was Bucky who had received the most attention. Despite Steve's chiselled blonde looks, it was the shorter brunette that had gained the most attention. "Its because I'm accessible," he'd said to Steve. "You look too perfect. I have..."

"Flaws!" Steve quipped. Bucky had taken it in good part - he was the one who usually went home with a companion. But now, he thought with a deadening sensation, that any drive he'd felt for sex had dissipated.

"You haven't answered my question, Sergeant."

Bucky blinked, lost in his memories. "I - looked healthy."

"I beg to differ." Zola was holding something - as he approached Barnes, he realised it was a photograph. "This is you whilst serving. Do you recognise the man in the photo?"

Bucky took the photo, and blinked. It was him, shirtless, dressed in combats. He looked better than he remembered, he realised with a shock. His abdominals were toned, as were his arms. His hair was cut short and he was clean shaven.

"Does that look like a man who worries about what he eats? Whether he exercises? Whether he needs to vomit?"

Bucky was stunned, clutching the photo as though it were a talisman. "No," he whispered.

"You have let your fame ruin you, Sergeant Barnes. What's happened to you, it is all your own doing, do you understand that?"

"My fault?" Bucky looked at Zola, amazed. "I- I was asked if I wanted to model, I didn't ask to have-"

"But you could have walked away," Zola said, his voice quiet, almost persuasive. "You didn't have to take Pierce's money, did you? Or was it the thought of being ordinary? The thought that no matter how hard you tried, you'd never be the same as your best friend?"

Bucky was stunned. "Steve?"

"Steve Rogers. Captain Steve Rogers. He became Captain, you became a Sergeant. And he was the one they all wanted - you were good for cheap, easy sex - it was Steve the women wanted to marry."

Bucky ran his hands through his hair, his fingers white with tension. "Accept it, Sergeant Barnes. You were never as heroic, or noble as Steve Rogers. Steve would go and investigate a car bomb - you would turn and run. So when Pierce offered you money in return for your looks, you suddenly saw the opportunity to be better than him."

"Steve was my best friend. We didn't compete."

"But you did. Because why else would you cut him out of your life, aside from to show him you felt you were better off without him? And look at him now, Sergeant. He's healthy. Alive. And what about you? If I let you go, you're going back to hospital, to be force fed and medicated. They will fatten you up Sergeant, because they believe helping you recover from Bulimia is better than your career. To them, your life is worth more than your body. But to you, your body is worth more than your life. Its worth it, because it means that in one way, you are _better than Steve._ Women want you. Men want to be you. And what is Steve? Just some nobody, walking round doing a job that you dismiss as for other people."

"Do you like what you see in the mirror, Sergeant? Do you see the man that everyone believes you to be?"

Bucky heard his voice, as though from a distance. "No."

"What do you see? A big fat ugly beast? A big fat ugly pig? Is that what you see? Because that's what you are, Sergeant. In a career that allows you to abuse yourself, and why are you here? Because deep down, you hate and resent the man you call your best friend, because when you both signed up, he proved that he was better than you. Braver. Nobler. More prepared to die."

Bucky felt as though Zola had punched him, repeatedly. He shook his head. "Its not true."

"But it is. Otherwise, why would you be in tears?" Bucky wiped his face - his cheeks were wet. "You're a poor specimen, Sergeant Barnes. I will let the nurse bring you some lunch - but please don't eat it if you intend to vomit. More vomiting might trigger a heart attack. Unless of course, you're prepared for that. Because I'm sure, Sergeant Barnes, the man you are now would rather be dead than fat. Dead than face Steve Rogers with a ruined career and a bloated body. Am I correct?"

Bucky choked out a response. Zola smiled and nodded.

"Thank you Sergeant. Its been a pleasure talking to you."

**All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer: Captain America:The Winter Soldier does not belong to me. **

"I swear," Sam mused, taking a bite of pizza, "if I have to look at one more celebrity site, my brain might start to come out of my ears."

Steve smiled and reached for another slice. "Well, its a little eye opening. I never realised Bucky had had so few girlfriends."

"Really?" Sam raised an eyebrow. "Thought he would have had more, did you?"

"Well, he's always liked women," Steve shrugged, "and always got more attention from them than I did, so the fact he's been out with so few indicates how controlled he's been."

"Yeah." Sam squinted at the laptop's screen. "They all seem very much the same. All models, all into the healthy lifestyle-"

"He needs someone real." Steve shrugged. "Someone to bake him cookies. Feed him properly."

Sam smiled. "Fatten him up."

"Not even that - just make sure he eats properly. Stops starving himself. Stops damaging himself." Steve shook his head in frustration. "Once he's eating properly and healthily, he'll start functioning again. Live life."

Sam looked at him. "Might take some long, painful therapy for that to happen."

Steve sighed and took a bite of pizza. "What does the website say?"

Sam blinked. "Only that he had one relationship that lasted a year - she left him. All been very non committal."

Steve leaned forward. "This is a mess. There's nothing solid, nothing for us to really work on. If he actually had friends, a girlfriend, people - we could try and help.. But all we've got is rumours, celebrity gossip-"

"Pierce." Sam spoke suddenly. Steve looked up. "What?"

"Alexander Pierce." Sam looked at him, seriously. "He's the connection. If you spoke to Pierce, you might find a way in."

"But I'm not sure Pierce will talk to me." Steve bit his lip. "But I need to know where he is- you can't just take someone and-"

Sam blinked. The sound of a cell phone was ringing. Steve put his hand in his pocket, and pulled out his iPhone. "One moment. Hello?" His eyes widened. "Are you serious? What, now?"

Sam stood up. "Steve-"

The other man's face had tightened. "Well, yes. In fact, might be for the best. Yes, both of you. But please remember, this is my place, and I have the right to ask yo to leave."

Sam looked at Steve, as he clicked off. "What is it?"

"Pierce." Steve swallowed. "He's outside, right now."

Sam looked stunned. "Why is he here? What does he want?"

"I don't know." Steve's jaw was set. Suddenly, the intercom buzzed. "Hang on." He pressed the button. "Come on up."

Sam sat down, and waited. Steve opened the door, his face set. Pierce walked in. "Steve Rogers. Good to see you."

"Wish I could say the same." Steve's voice was edged with venom. "Where is Bucky?"

Pierce blinked. ""I wouldn't worry about him, Mr Rogers. Really."

"He's ill." Steve shook his head. "You know this."

"He's egotistical, and he's hysterical. Its best you leave him."

"Never." Steve shook his head. "You need to tell me where he is."

"I'm here to make you an offer."

"Really? What's that?"

"Steve." Alexander Pierce looked at him. "I'm here to ask you to model for me. Would you consider it?"

**All readers and reviews appreciated, thank you!**


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer: The Winter Soldier does not belong to me. **

Steve looked at Pierce for several moments, neither of them speaking. Then Pierce cleared his throat again.

"Steve. I am here to ask if you would consider becoming one of my models. I need a new-"

"trophy?" Steve interjected, cutting off Pierce's flow. "A new, healthier model, after what happened to the last one?"

"Oh, yes, James." Pierce smiled, dismissively. "Please do bear in mind that there are risks in this game. I don't think James was strong enough to handle it."

Steve felt himself flush red, as memories bubbled to his lips. Sam stepped in. "Mr Pierce - would you like some coffee?"

"Oh, thank you, yes. And please - its Alex."

Sam nodded and headed to the kitchen. Steve faced Pierce. "You really think Bucky couldn't handle it?"

"Steve, I appreciate your concern for a friend, but-"

"He was a top sniper in the military." Steve glared at Pierce. "When he left the army, he was physically fit, and mentally strong. You broke him."

"I didn't break him," Pierce protested, his smooth demeanour becoming slightly ruffled. "He was already gone."

"You just gave him a push."

"I know you possibly feel guilty that your best friend turned out to be someone you hardly knew - a depressed, sick bulimic - but, please, feeling guilty will not help you."

"I still think you made into what he was." Steve shook his head, aware the conversation was going nowhere. "And unless you let me see him, or tell me where he is, I am not continuing this conversation."

"Steve." Pierce frowned and shook his head. "You really don't know him anymore. May I have a seat? This may take some time."

Steve swallowed, listening for the sounds from the kitchen. He didn't want Pierce to spend another minute in his home, but his need to find out where Bucky was eroded his anger. "Yes, of course."

"Thank you." Pierce smiled gratefully at Sam when he emerged with three cups of black coffee. "Now, where do you want me to start?"

* * *

><p>"Hey, Barnes? You awake?"<p>

Bucky blinked, trying to focus. A male nurse had entered the room, setting a tray down on the small table next to the bed. He walked over to Bucky, and began untieing the restraints. "Doctor's orders. You have to eat."

"When did I last eat?" Bucky murmured, realising how dry his mouth was.

"It was about ten hours ago." The nurse looked apologetic. "Dr Zola said it was best for you to sleep." Bucky frowned - all he seemed to do was sleep. His gaze turned to the table. On the tray, was a dish, containing cake, and ice cream.

"Something simple," the nurse said, nodding. "He also said this is what you needed." He smiled. "So, I'm going to go, and be back in half an hour, ok?"

Bucky nodded, slightly mesmerised by what was in front of him.

"OK...I'll leave you to it."

As the door closed, he sat there, transfixed by the dish. Twisting, he picked it up, and placed it on his lap, taking the spoon, and dipping it cautiously into the melting liquid. He scooped up a small mouthful and smiled. Vanilla.

Steve liked vanilla. Two of the girls he'd dated before he'd left the military had loved vanilla. He let his tongue flick out, tasting the sweet coolness. Suddenly, he felt himself engulfed with a slew of memories. He remembered kissing her, her mouth tasting sweet, and wanting to do it again.

Then he blinked. He'd told her that he was leaving the army, going into modelling. She'd looked at him as though he were insane. "You can't," she'd protested. "What about your life?"

He'd shrugged. "Its the right decision."

"But...does this mean we're no longer together?"

He'd looked at her, and swallowed. "I guess not," he'd said softly.

"Oh, I see," she said bitterly. Shaking her head, she began to leave. "Forget it!"

"Maria!" Bucky shouted after her, but she had already slammed the door.

He stopped, jerking himself back to reality. Maria had gone, and he suspected by now she was probably happily married, and never want to see him. He rubbed his forehead - she had been kind, intelligent, interesting, and attractive. And he'd rejected her.

He swallowed, and began to eat, spooning the melting ice cream into his mouth, swallowing it without even bothering to notice if it dripped.

* * *

><p>"James has a substance abuse problem."<p>

Steve sank into his seat. "Really?"

"Yes." Pierce nodded. "He abuses cocaine, and has done so for a while. Guess he thought it would keep him in shape-"

"Its killing him," Steve interjected. "You know this. He's sick, and the hospital know this. Why have you done this?"

"Done what?" Pierce asked, calmly.

"Put him out of sight." Steve leaned forward. "You faked a kidnapping, and put him somewhere. Where? A hospital? A rehab centre? Or is he with a gang of thugs, who are just going to beat him to a pulp?"

"Steve-" Pierce's voice took on a hard edge. "You do realise I had to lie, don't you? I had to make the public think that James has been taken. If they knew what we do-"

"What if they already do?" Steve snapped. "The internet's an interesting place, you can find out all sorts of things in less that a minute."

"They won't." Pierce folded his arms. "And you're not going to tell them."

"Excuse me?"

"Steve. You've clearly seen through it all Well done. But I'll tell you this - if you even try and think of being heroic and rescuing him, I'll see to it that your life is over. Being a teacher can be precarious - what if a student made an allegation?"

Steve was stunned. "You wouldn't-"

"Oh, I would. I'll do what I have to to protect an asset. And James is my asset - until its too late." Pierce smiled sadly. "I don't think there's anything that can help him, but you- you could be-"

"Please leave," Steve , through gritted teeth.

"Agreeing to do what I ask could help you."

Steve looked at Pierce. "Do I have a choice?"

"Does James?"

* * *

><p>Bucky swallowed, leaning over the smooth porcelain rim. His mouth burned and felt sour with the taste of bile. He coughed, retching.<p>

He leaned back against the wall, feeling waves of nausea. Suddenly, he frowned - his heart felt as though it were fluttering in his chest. He coughed.

"Sergeant Barnes?"

He began to stand up. "Yes?" he called out, weakly.

"I hope you enjoyed what we brought you?"

Bucky staggered out of the bathroom, feeling the ache in his legs. "Dr Zola."

"I hope you weren't surprised at the ice cream, but consensus is we need to fatten you up - Mr Pierce's orders."

Bucky blinked. "What?"

"Rapid weight gain is essential." Zola smiled. "I believe he's negotiating with someone to take care of you."

"Who?"

"Steve Rogers."

Bucky blinked. "But...you said..."

"Oh, I know you feel inferior, Sergeant. And you'll feel even more inferior when you get fat...but come on, isn't it important you're alive? I'll have that other meal brought up straight away."

Zola turned and left. Bucky, turning, hurried to the toilet, spitting another mouthful of bile into the bowl.

* * *

><p>"Well?"<p>

"I-"

"I'm waiting."

Steve shook his head. "No."

Pierce's expression clouded. "No?"

"I think he said no." Suddenly, Steve heard a click. Sam was standing behind Pierce, a pistol aimed at the back of his head. "And unless you want me to decorate the walls of Steve's apartment, you'll tell us where he is."

Pierce looked at Steve, his face turning ashen.

Steve smiled. "Well? I'm waiting."

**Thank you for reading, please review if you wish. **


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer: The Winter Soldier does not belong to me. Sorry for the hiatus. **

Sam did not blink. Steve stood, electrified, as the other man pressed the metal barrel to the back of Pierce's skull.

"I suggest you co-operate", Sam said quietly, "because I'm really not afraid to use this."

Pierce snorted. "And how will you explain it the police?"

Sam chuckled. "If we dump your body, they'll never know. Fingerprints can be wiped off. They'll assume you were mugged. Its simple."

Pierce shook his head. "You're in over your heads."

"So are you." Steve found his voice, wanting to cut the escalating tension in the room. "You're trying to persuade me to do something you've nearly killed someone over-"

"I haven't killed anyone," Pierce interrupted. "So please don't make assumptions."

"So what have you done to him?" Steve's voice was slightly louder. "And I'll ask you again - where is he?"

"You don't need to know."

"Yes, I do." Steve glared at Pierce. "Its this simple. You want me to model for you -OK. But in return, you give me Barnes. And you give him back to me in one piece."

"I would say mentally he's in pieces," Pierce smiled. "He isn't strong enough for this job. I think you're aware of that." He shook his head. "Money and fame should be everyone's dream. They weren't his."

"Maybe its because he's a better person-"

"Please don't start judging and trying to take the higher moral ground." Pierce's voice was soft. "If he was really too good for this, he wouldn't have stayed in it for ten years. But, if you want him back, Steve, you can have him. I have no use for him anymore."

Steve swallowed. "This is-"

"Too easy? Perhaps." Pierce sighed, slumping slightly. "But I'm not sure I'm really prepared to deal with men who are all too happy to use bullets. So, yes, you can come with me tomorrow, and collect him."

"And then-"

"You do a couple of photo shoots for me Steve - and that's it. I leave you alone, I'll leave him alone. Although what you think he's going to do for employment, I'm not sure."

Steve snorted. "Oh, don't worry. I'm sure we'll work something out."

"I'm sure you will. Shall we?"

Steve blinked. "What?"

"We can get him now. Is that what you want?"

* * *

><p>Bucky was slumped against the wall. He had no idea of how long he'd been there for, or if anyone had noticed. He swallowed, feeling the need for water. As he began to push himself up, he felt shaky, and nauseous. Getting into the bathroom, he gripped the edge of the toilet and vomited again.<p>

Going to the sink, he swallowed water, and rinsed his mouth. He choked slightly, feeling as though he might pass out. Leaning against the wall, he remembered the therapy session that day.

"Of course, Steve only wants to protect you."

Bucky nodded, numbly.

"Do you think you can prove to him you're worth saving?"

Bucky blinked, not understanding the question.

"If you still feel inferior, or jealous of him, you may never accept what you need to do to recover."

"He will take care of you - force you to be what you hate - are you prepared for that?"

Bucky just nodded, tiredly. He felt as though he couldn't speak.

Blinking, he shook his head. He heard a sound - the key scraping. Unsteadily, he began to get up, and looked round the door. Suddenly, he heard a familiar voice. Steve's voice.

"Bucky? Are you here?"

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